


Collide

by FateofaFangirl



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aka there's cursing, Also I use some Altean words like nunvil (I'll put definitions in the notes), Alternate Universe, Because I've aged up the characters they do have a colorful vocabulary, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Demisexual Shiro voltron, F/M, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gay Matt Holt, Happy Ending, Keith 22yrs old, Keith and Shiro are Adoptive Siblings, Lance (Voltron) Speaks Spanish, Lance 23yrs old, M/M, MasterChef!Hunk, Minor Matt Holt/Shiro, Music Agent Allura, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Pansexual Hunk, Paparazzi Lotor, Photographer Coran, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Rockstar!Keith, Sexual Content, Shatt, Singer!Lance, Smut, Some langst, Soulmates, dj pidge, klance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2018-11-23 10:58:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11401128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FateofaFangirl/pseuds/FateofaFangirl
Summary: Keith, a popular 22 year old rock star, was stuck in an creative well that was running dry.  He needed something to breathe new life into his music.  When the opportunity arose, then, how could he turn down a cover on one of the top grossing celebrity magazines of 2016, "Voltron".  Only he wouldn't be alone.  Lance McClain, Cuban immigrant and up and coming star, would be joining him.  After a rocky introduction, insults thrown between the two, Keith was sure he'd never see the obnoxious Cuban again.  But the arrival of an invitation sparked a catalyst of events.  Soon both young men realize they'd found something they were never looking for.  Lance battles with finding value in himself, and Keith struggles with trusting others with his heart.  Each draw strength from a bond they never knew they needed; one that made Red and Blue collide.





	1. "The Camera Loves Ya!"

**Author's Note:**

> Spanish Translations:  
> I do use a lot of Spanish in this fic, so I'll leave the translations in text like this ((translation)). I apologize for any mistakes, I only have a couple of Spanish classes and google translate to work with. Please let me know if something is wrong!
> 
> Altean Definitions:  
> *Nunvil - Canon Altean drink, I use it as a type of alcohol in this story  
> *Quiznak - Canon curse word, can be used in place of the f-bomb 
> 
> Chapter Note:  
> This is likely the shortest chapter of this story. This scene is basically an introduction to the appearance, roles, and personalities of the Voltron characters in this fic. The other parts will be longer, I promise! I will try to put up chapter two later today or tomorrow. Further updates will be weekly barring any editing complications. I hope you enjoy!

“We’re about ready, my gorgeous Minions!” A tall, springy type man bounced on the balls of his feet. In one hand he held a large lensed camera, while in the other he twisted up his bright orange mustache that paired with his bright orange hair. He stood in the midst of a frenzy of techs, makeup artists, and PA’s running about preparing for the photo-shoot. The photographer had a wide smile playing on his face, coming to stand in front of a floor to ceiling white, blue, and red mottled photo-background. “Open the doors and bring me my stars!” He grinned wider, giddy, as the two opposing doors on the sides of the room opened. Two people came from each entrance, quickly making their way over to the background. It was a lanky, Cuban young man who made it first bee lining straight for the photographer. 

“Coran!” He spoke happiness filling his voice. 

“Lance, my boy, come here,” Coran pulled the younger man into a tight hug, careful not to change his grip on his camera. “I am positively ecstatic to be working with you again!” 

“Me too! Although,” Lance pulled away with a slight sneer to his lip, “I wish it were just me and not with that mullet brained-” 

“Now, now, we both know that isn’t quiet true. You’re tongue got more than a little slippery that night at my house, when I let you have a bit of Nunvil,” Coran said matter of factly, a twinkle in his eye. Lance shuddered at the memory of both the taste and his blabbering mouth. 

“One, I was under the influence, two I’m still not going to enjoy this,” the tanned young man, pouted crossing his arms. 

“Ahem,” a clipped British voice came from behind Lance. A mocha skinned woman came up beside the two, her silvery white hair was pulled into an expertly managed bun and her light pink blouse complimented her dark pencil skirt. “We need to move this forward as soon as possible, we have a recording session to attend after this,” she flipped through a leather binder.

“You’re becoming an out right stick in wet earth, you know dear Allura,” Coran teased, giving her a tight side hug to grab her attention. She looked up, her face softening to a light smile.

“All out of necessity, I promise,” Allura turned to speak to the other, “Lance, why don’t you get to know your shoot partner while I talk with Coran for a moment.”

“What do you two have to talk about without me around?”

“Agent-y things, now shoo,” Allura waved a dismissing hand.

“Yes! Go get those creative juices flowing!” Coran called out to Lance as the boy walked toward the background. He walked onto the sheet, to the middle, in front of the standing lights. Lance turned in the direction of his shoot partner and--he assumed--his agent. They stood to the side, speaking quietly to one another. The Cuban studied each of them closely to determine their identities.  
From previous knowledge, Lance knew that his shooting partner’s agent was Takashi Shirogane other wise known as “Shiro”. He was the best in the business; Lance had even tried to sign on with him at the start of Lance's career but lost out to Shiro’s younger adopted brother. Not only was Shiro a great agent, he wasn’t hard to look at either. In fact, he was damn gorgeous. The man was tall, his muscles obvious in his normal sung fitted suit, and a demeanor that had girls and boys melting into a puddle of fluffy feels. Although he’d lost his right arm fighting in Afghanistan, it seemed to make him even more irresistible. 

Shiro seemed to have caught Lance’s studying eyes because he sent a small smile his way, the scar on his nose crinkling a bit in the gesture. The agent then turned to say something to his client, nodding in Lance’s direction. Within a tick, the other young man came walking up to the middle of the photo-background; stopping when he reached Lance. The Cuban bit the inside of his cheek, heart pumping a little faster. His shoot partner wore dark ripped jeans, combat boots, a white v-neck shirt, and a deep red leather jacket. To top the look off, he had on black finger-less gloves, dark necklace chains hanging from his pale neck, and dark studded earrings.

Lance gulped fidgeting with his wide brimmed white fedora, and glancing down at his own appearance. He wore brown Cuban shoes with a slight heel, cobalt blue suit with the jacket’s sleeves rolled to the elbows, and a pristine white button up shirt. It had the top three buttons undone to show Lance’s smooth tanned skin. 

“You must be Lance McClain,” the young man interrupted Lance’s mental check. The Cuban cleared his throat. 

“Indeed, which makes you Keith Kogane.” Keith nodded at the assumption, a little awkwardly. “You ready to do this?” Keith rubbed the back of his neck, slightly messing with his dark hair.

“To be completely honest, I’m not sure why we’re even doing this…” 

“It’s a shoot for the cover of Voltron magazine...to promote our rivalry and hopefully boost our publicity? Show how in touch we are with our fans…” Lance squinted suspiciously at the young man in front of him. 

“I know that,” Keith scowled defensively, “What I don’t understand is where this rivalry came from? We don’t even know each other and no offense, man, but I’ve never even listened to your music.” McClain’s jaw dropped in complete unbelief. As the shock wore away, it was replaced by irritation. 

“No puedo creete! Do you live under a rock, hombre?!” ((I can’t believe you)) Lance’s accent and native language slipping through, “Our fans have been rivals since we first started out as musicians! Their rivalry has been the biggest craze in 2016! We broke tumblr for a day and a half with the Purple War; your Koganites vs. my McClaimed followers! None of this is ringing any bells with you?” Keith’s eyebrows raised with every comment, shaking his head in reply to Lance’s rambles. “¡Dios mío! ¡No! No, no no no Allura!” Lance’s accent came full on, speaking at lightning speed. He turned to storm toward his agent, yelling at such a high volume, you’d think she was in the next country over instead of a few feet away. “No puedo trabajar con esto. Este chico es tan estúpido como se pone. ¡No! No voy a hacer esto-” ((I cannot work with this. This guy is as stupid as it gets. No! I will not do this-)) Lance continued to gabber on Keith failing to pick up on any other distinguishing syllables. The rock star watched dumbfounded as the Cuban and his agent became a bit heated, trading spouts of Spanish back and forth. 

Shiro came up beside Keith, nudging him with an elbow. “So… I’m guessing what we practiced didn’t go over very well?” Keith shook his head, pursing his lips. The older man sighed in understanding, putting a hand on the younger’s shoulder. See, Keith has had communicating problems ever since Shiro could remember. He has always been subdued and very introverted. The fact that he even opened his mouth to sing to others was a miracle. But when he did it was finally a way he could express himself without stumbling over words. Still, picking up on social cues and nonverbal language-sometimes even verbal language--was extremely difficult for him.

“I just told him the truth, told him how I felt; calmly and rationally.” 

“What exactly did you say?” Shiro raised an eyebrow.

“I told him I was confused about the whole rivalry thing, especially because we didn’t know each other; I may have also mentioned that I’d never listened to his music,” Keith’s eyes studied the floor. Shiro about slapped himself in the forehead. 

“Geez little brother, did you not listen to those music files I gave you a couple of weeks ago? I told you they were for an important shoot coming up… this one, to be exact,” he rubbed the bridge of his nose, a headache beginning to form. 

“Oh the Latin and indie music? It’s not really my thing. Although I had been meaning to listen to them… I-I’m sorry,” Keith pulled his arms around his chest, hugging himself. 

“Hey, it’s alright. I’ll go see if I can straighten-” 

“LANCE EDUARDO MCCLAIN!” Allura’s voice echoed throughout the room, the entire group falling silent. In a lower voice she spoke, more evenly, “You are going to get over there and look quiznaking pretty for that camera or so help me, I will disclose everything that your abuela told me about your childhood.”

“Everything?” Lance squeaked. Allura nodded slowly. 

“With pictures.” Sending one final dagger filled look to Allura, Lance walked back toward Keith. Shiro slipped away, right after giving Keith a little thumbs up and a whispered, “you go this”.

“Sooo,” Keith began but was quickly cut off. Lance stepped up close into the rock star’s personal bubble, nearly touching his forehead with the other’s. A pink blush dusted Keith's cheeks at the sudden invasion. 

“You’re going down, Kogane. By the way, your mullet is stupid,” Lance crossed his arms. Keith was taken aback, but immediately irritation rushed through him, pushing into Lance’s personal space. 

“Says the guy wearing heels and hat that hasn’t been cool since my grandpa was in high school. And, by the way, my fans love my hair,” Keith poked a finger at Lance’s chest. 

“W-well, I don’t!” 

“Good thing I’m not trying to impress you then, douche wad,” Keith sneer gesturing to Lance’s outfit. The Cuban boy sputtered up a reply.

“I’m not trying to impress you either!”

“Good!”

“Good!” The boys spun away from each other, scowls on their faces arms crossed, backs against the others’. Unbeknownst to them, flashes had been going off during their entire escapade. 

“Oh perfect, perfect. Well done my stars!” Coran praised as he took shot after shot from different angles. “Now, look at me, give me your best battle face,” the photographer nearly giggled in delight as the two young men before him gave their best fierce, smoldering eyes to the camera. “Oooh we’ll definitely get a cover shot from these. Alright, gorgeous minions! Next bring in the fireworks!” 

The two boys suddenly glanced at each other wide eyed, saying in unison, “Fireworks?!”

“Of course,” Coran answered, “Go big or don’t go at all is what I always say. Don’t worry, if anything goes wrong you’ll only receive minor burns.”


	2. Colors of Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith sat slouching in a leather bean bag on the floor of his room. He had his head back, ear buds in, every now and then scribbling notes on sheets of music in his lap. A sudden brother shaped shadow passed over his light. "I'm busy," was all Keith muttered, eyebrows taut with concentration. Paper was then waved in front of Keith's face, interrupting his train of thought. "What?" The younger man growled, yanking out his head phones. 
> 
> "This came for you in the mail. Thought you may want to open it," Shiro raised an eyebrow and shook the envelope at Keith again. 
> 
> "What is it?"  
> "I didn't open it, but it says Lance McClain on the return address. It could be an invitation to his birthday party." Keith scowled, ripping at the seal of the envelope. 
> 
> "What are we, twelve? Why would he even send me this?" Shiro shrugged, thought pursing his lips.
> 
> "The magazine cover sales exceeded expectation. Maybe he's hoping to play off the publicity." Reading the note confirmed Shiro's inital theory. It was an invitation to McClain's birthday party in a couple of day's time. Keith let out a heavy sigh. 
> 
> "That means I have to go don't I?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Note:  
> I know I'll likely get some comments about this so I'll go ahead and address it. I wrote this prior to when Lance's canon birthday date was released (I now know it's July 28th). In this fic, though, I wrote it as being in June. Changing it now would effect the whole dynamic of this chapter. So, I hope I make up for his birthday being non-canon with the content.

Keith stood wide-eyed in front of a very large, tan house that had a red tiled roof. He held a death grip on a small box, painstakingly wrapped in red paper. His hands shook a little, nerves knotting in his stomach. Keith had expected a crowd, but this? It was as if people were bursting from the seams of the house. Colored lights strobed the night sky, the house jumped with the beat of the base. He shook his head, no, no this was definitely too much. He didn’t care what Shiro said. Keith was not going into that house, into that party, all for politeness sake. Heels already began turning away when an arm slide around Keith’s shoulders, stopping him.

“Hey man, how are you doing tonight?” A rough voice came from the tall, tough looking man that pulled Keith in the direction of the house.

“Dude!” Keith scowled automatically giving them a hard shove away. The other man gave a surrendering gesture, apologetic shock written on his face. “Sorry, um you just scared me. I-I’m doing fine. I guess,” the rock star rubbed the back of his neck a hot blush creeping up his face. 

“Well…” the man, eyed him carefully and continued, waving a hand toward the house, “As soon as we get you in there, you'll be better than fine, my friend. Trust me; people look forward to McClain’s birthday party all year. It's /the/ event of the summer and the best place to be tonight.” The guy sent a friendly smile to Keith, which he replied with a skeptical twitch of his eyebrows. “I'm Rolo by the way,” he offered Keith a hand. Keith frowned at it, eyes like daggers. Rolo shrugged and stepped away, going to stand in front of the door. He brought a previously unnoticed clipboard up, a pen magically in hand. “What's your name, brother?” 

“Keith Kogane,” he looked anywhere but the other man's eyes. Rolo scanned the paper in front of him, and then gave a checkmark to one of the many names on the list.

“Welcome to the party Keith! And judging by these little stars next to your name, I'm to give you a grand tour of the place,” Rolo’s hand met the doorknob and hesitated. Head turning, the man’s lips pressed into a firm line and his sharp eyes searched Keith, “Not to be blunt, brother, but you’re not homophobic are you?” Rolo’s voice was quiet and tense.

“Of course not,” Keith furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “Why?” Rolo’s entire body relaxed, all tightness leaving his face and the friendly grin returning.

“You really haven't been to one of these before…” he chuckled a bit turning the knob. The door swung open with a flourish and Keith stepped in right away. He was instantly met with why Rolo had asked that question.

Colors were everywhere, specifically LGBTQ colors. Large flags hung from various places on in the ceiling; they were flags of ever sexuality Keith could think of and even some he didn't know about. People dancing to the music held multicolored cups in their hands, sexuality colors striped on their cheeks. Most had some form of glow stick on their person; some pink, some blue, and some green. In the corner, at a makeshift bar, a skilled mixologist poured a bottle over a line of shots; with talent, each shot glass filled with a different color liquid. The bartender literally poured rainbow shots.

Keith’s cheeks were on fire, surveying the party. “Oh,” was all his overwhelmed brain could muster as response to the man next to him.

“Yeah,” Rolo grinned clapping Keith on the shoulder, “Lance has always been open about his sexuality; not that he could hide it. When I first met him, he was flirting with my girl. Next thing I know, he starts hittin’ on me.” An amused laughter bubbled from Rolo, “That dude is something else… He is very proud to be who he is, and is always eager to celebrate that. Overall, though, he just wants to see people accepted. I think it very fitting his birthday be in Pride Month.”

Keith could only nod. In all honesty, he had no idea Lance was so open. Of course, why would he? He only met the man a seven days ago. Keith was here purely out of obligation. He received the invitation a week after the photo-shoot and somehow the media caught wind. At that point, if he were not to attend he would be publicly snubbing Lance. 

“Come on, I'll lay down the rules as I show you around,” Rolo started walking. 

“Rules?” he whispered, a puzzled expression tightened Keith’s face. Not hearing, or perhaps not caring to answer, Rolo started walking. With a frustrated scoff, Keith hurried to catch up.

The two men weaved their way through the crowd and to a long wooden staircase on the right side of the house. They stopped right outside a door under the stairs, “This is one of the bathrooms. There’s another on the other side of the house near the kitchen.” Rolo waved in each direction as he spoke. “Now, if you find yourself in need of a quiet place for you or whoever you wish to bring with you,” he gave a pointed smile, “On the second floor there are six bedrooms open for use--taking into account they aren’t already occupied. Rules for using those spaces are as follows: no ascent without consent. Meaning no going up there without a definite yes from the cooperating party.” Keith nodded vigorously, wondering if the blush on his cheeks might be permanent feature before the night was over. “And the room with the blue door is off limits.”

“Why that room?” Keith asked, bluntly.

“Best not to question it,” Rolo pursed his lips, walking away, and beckoning Keith to follow. He spoke as they walked by a glass wall and a sliding door that led to the outside. The backyard was spacious. However, the grassy areas were minimal because of an Olympic sized pool dominating the center of the yard. Even more people were out there and Keith shuddered at the prospect. “The outside deck has the pool. Take a dip if you want, I believe Lance said this was trunks optional day? It is every third Thursday of every other month. Exceptions being November, in which trunks are absolutely required, and his birthday weekends in which trunks are most definitely optional or some shit like that. He’s the boss so,” Rolo shrugged. “If you want a drink, there’s a tiki bar set up by the pool or there’s the makeshift inside bar near the fireplace. Non Alcoholic drinks are served in the kitchen,” the man said just as they were rounding near said room. Keith Caught a glimpse of it as they passed, snacks scattered on an island and sodas lined up next to a cooler of ice. 

“Your basic party snacks, chips & dip sort of thing can also be found in the kitchen. Although, if you’ve got the will to wait in line, Hunk is outside manning the grill.” Rolo closed his eyes, letting out an uncomfortably sexual groan, “What that boy can do with a steak.” The man shook his head, eyes sparkling just thinking about it. Keith chose to ignore the awkwardness building between them and continued down the hall. They came full circle back at the front hall. “There are four final rules,” Rolo counted down on his fingers as he talked, “No shaming, no judging, have fun, and you have to give our lovely host a smooch on the cheek before you leave.” Keith’s eyes widened at the last one, color draining from his face at the idea. “Geez brother, chill. He’s been letting that last one slide for a while now; the whole consent thing remember. You got all the rules?” The rock star took in a deep relieved breath, and gave a curt nod. He had heard all of them all right, some he’d rather wish to forget. “Good. Now, I’ve got to get back to my post so…” Rolo led Keith up to a folding table just inside the door. Somehow, he must have looked over it before.

A very tall, curvy girl stood behind the table. She wore a man-eating smirk, with waist length golden hair held up on pigtails on the sides of her head. On the table lay un-cracked glow sticks, face paint, stickers, and lines of multicolor wristbands. “Nyma,” Rolo grinned, up at that woman, “This is Keith, a three star guest. And Keith, this is my girl, Nyma. I’m going to leave you in her capable hands. She’ll answer any questions you have. Have fun, buddy.” He gave a final pat to Keith’s shoulder, disappearing into the crowd.

“Hello Keith, so this is your first time at one of Lance’s parties?” Nyma asked more to break the ice than to receive an answer.

“Uh, Yeah. I had no idea it was going to be so...flamboyant?” Keith glanced around, awe mixed with puppy dog like innocence in his eyes. The comment pulled a bright laugh from the girl.

“They are that. But it fits his personality don’t you think?”

“S-sure,” Keith agreed, not really knowing if such a description fit Lance’s personality or not. “Um so what is all-” he let a wave of his hand at the table, without finishing his thought.

“This is the ‘Support Table’,” she spoke with a smile, leaning on the table itself. “To explain it, I’ll have to give you the lowdown on these parties. As I’m sure Rolo mention, there is no judgment or shaming here. This is a safe place for everyone and anyone. No matter sexuality, gender identity, etc. Lance even takes extra measures to make sure no cameras or reporters are let in. That way our celebrity guests,” she gave Keith a wink, “or regular guests are free to be who they are without worrying about being unintentionally ‘outed’. 

“The ‘Support Table’ is just a way to encourage a free and open atmosphere. This table is where a guest can don some party favors in support of their own sexuality or identity. Or, if you would rather, you can just support others as a way to build community. There are three colors of glow sticks related to your chosen pronoun; pink for she, blue for he, and green for they. Then, there are wristbands, face paint, and heart stickers with colors of corresponding pride flags.

“This is completely optional, of course. However, after a while, most guest feel welcomed enough to do so. Do you understand?” Keith bit the inside of his cheek, his heart pumping so loud he was sure it could be heard over the drop of the base. 

“Y-yes,” Keith stuttered, mouth going dry. His stomach knotted and twisted again, the anxiousness returning.

“Would you like to wear something?” She asked softly, with an encouraging tone. “There’s no need jump right in if this is too fast, your first McClain party can be very overwhelming.” Keith took a couple of deep breathes. No, that is exactly what he need to do—jump into it. He has spent most of his days toeing the shallow end of that specific pool. This might be his only chance to jump in with a group of supporters waiting to catch him. And like hell was Keith Kogane going to let one of Lance McClain’s parties get the better of him. 

“I’d like to…um,” he gestured to the table again, his voice still a bit shaky. He cleared his throat, managing to speak in a more confident tone, “Give me the works.” Nyma’s face broke into a wide smile. Her eyes sparkled; she straightened from her leaned position, and put a hand on a sassy hip,

“You got it!” 

Ten minutes later, Keith stepped out onto the backyard terrace decked out in Pride gear. A blue glow stick crown hugged his head and glowing bracelet on one wrist, a wide rainbow colored wristband on the other. There was a rainbow choker tight around his pale neck. His right cheek had smudged, rainbow striped face paint, and on his left cheek, right under his eye was a small rainbow colored heart sticker. He could still feel the bright pink flush fading from his cheeks. Although he hadn’t meant to go this all out, he kind of liked—it was freeing. 

Keith, still holding onto the red wrapped present, let his feet lead him in the direction of the gift table—Nyma had pointed it out to him before she let him go. He quickly escaped the horde of people as he reached the table. It was filled with small to medium sized wrapped boxes and bags, all of them a different shade of blue. A pained sounded escaped Keith’s mouth, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Shrinking forward, he slide the very conspicuous, bright red present on the table. As soon as the box was in place, Keith shuffled quickly away, praying no one noticed which dumbass brought a red wrapped present when obviously the theme had been blue. Who even has themed presents anyway? Keith grumbled, his mind distracting him from the current events.

He soon let his eyes wander, taking in the details of the pool. It was very extravagant. Bordered by tanned limestone, it shaped the pool into a figure eight. There was a hot tub on the far end, which spilled over, like a waterfall, into the larger pool. The pool’s lights strobed slowly. Water melting into different primary colors every couple of minutes. Many people wading in the shallows tossing an oversized beach ball, their fun only interrupted by splashes from the diving board and shrieks of surprise. The rock star’s eyes scanned each face, not really looking for anyone in specific. Until his eyes landed on that one familiar face—McClain. 

The Cuban sat on the side of the hot tube, legs in water coming up to his knees. He wore dark shorts, a cobalt blue button up with all the buttons undone, a thick strip of tanned bare skin shown from underneath. To complete his outfit, Lance had pink, purple, and blue tri colored suspenders hugging against his body. The celebrity lounged back on his hands, smirk on his face. McClain’s eyes rolled over his party and suddenly met Keith. The rock star’s gaze quickly snapped away, and he turned to walk in the opposite direction. He nearly rammed into a server carrying a tray of those famous rainbow shots from the tiki bar. 

“S-sorry,” Keith stuttered, hastily moving out of the way. His eyes found Lance again. The birthday boy’s head was thrown back, laughter crinkling his nose and his face positively glowing. “Whoa,” the rock star breathed, unable to contain the sudden spout of affection. There was no question that Lance McClain was handsome, the problem was his irritating big mouth. The memory of Lance’s sharp words at the photo shoot shut down any further feelings stirring in Keith’s chest. 

The Cuban artist waved a hand, beckoning Keith over. Kogane took a deep breath, letting out a small reassuring whisper, “Patience yields focus.” With another breath, his feet pushed him forward, heading in the hot tube’s direction. Lance stood, stepping up and out of the water as Keith reached him. 

“To be completely honest, I didn’t think expect you to show,” McClain scratched his head, bi colored bangle bracelets jingling on his wrist. Closer up, Keith notice Lance had a blue glow stick necklace looped around his neck and tight glowing bracelets hugging his dripping wet ankles. 

“Really? How could I pass up an invite to one of Lance McClain’s famous parties! I mean, people look forward to this all year,” Keith crossed his arms over his chest, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“I see Rolo’s gotten to you,” a very faint blush dusted the Cuban’s tanned cheeks. “And Nyma too,” he waved a hand to Keith’s attire, that signature grin and cocked eyebrow returning to his face. The rock star shrunk into himself, embarrassed to be so openly vulnerable now.

“I uh I just-”

“Enfría mi amigo,” ((Chill my friend)) Lance raised a surrendering hand, “Safe place here, remember? You don’t have to explain yourself. Just enjoy being who you are without anyone demanding answers.”

“T-Thanks er, Gracias,” Keith spoke with such a broken accent that Lance winced. Nevertheless, he nodded in gratitude for the attempt.

“De Nada… Come on; let me introduce you to some buddies of mine.”

He started immediately walking away, causing Keith to scurry to catch up. They soon made it to the DJ’s set up, not too far from the hot tube. It was set up on stilts a couple feet off the ground, enormous and pounding speakers on either side of the stand. A small figure sat cross-legged on a stool, working the DJ equipment. Pale skin complimented by bright orange hair. It was cut short, causing the hair to shoot out at odd yet pleasing angles. They had large round amber eyes, with even larger round framed glasses. Green headphones hung on their neck, matching the green glowing bracelets dangled from their wrists, and one larger glowing ring crowning their head. Keith remembered in passing, that the green glow sticks were the they/them pronoun color of choice. “Hey pidge-podge! Meet Keith Kogane,” Lance called. They looked up from their work instantly responding to the name. Their eyes landed on Keith, squinting, sizing him up.

“Thought you’d be taller…” they pursed their lips in thought. Lance gave a breathy chuckle, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That’s Pidge for you. Anyway, Kogane meet Pidge Holt; the best DJ money can buy.” Keith nodded, a little confused by the situation. And he could swear Pidge seemed a little familiar.

“You’re not paying me,” Pidge stated before coolly adding, “Unless that’s changed. In which case, I’d be glad to draw up a payment plan-”

“Okay, okay! Pidge is practically family, so they do me friendly favors from time to time,” Lance grinned at Keith. Suddenly, as he stared at all the green themed equipment, a light bulb went off in Keith’s mind. 

“The Green Lion! You’re the Green Lion! The best DJ L.A. has seen since like ever!” Keith gushed. Pidge smiled, puffing their chest in pride. 

“Thank you, Keith,” they turned to Lance, “Keep this one around. He’s got brains, unlike your other-”

“O-Kay,” Lance pulled Keith away with a quick tug of his arm, “We’re going to check up on the grill master now.” As soon as they were a safe distance away, Lance let go. “Sorry… they can be a bit forward sometimes.”

“I like them,” Keith grinned backward toward the DJ, “And their song choices are lit.” A delicious smell unexpectedly filled his nose, “Oh my god, what is that?!” Lance grinned bringing him passed the long line of people, straight to the big, silver encased grill. A bulky man stood behind the masterful piece of cookware. 

 

“That is the smell of heaven, brought to you by the youngest master chef in a century.” At Lance’s comment, the man turned around. He had a yellow apron tied around his body, and wore an orange headband to keep the hair from his soft chocolate eyes. On one of his caramel skinned cheeks, he had heart stickers supporting the pansexual colors and on the other side, half his entire face was painted pink, yellow, and light blue.

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, Lance. And do you really think this is an appropriate time for a Harry Potter reference? Although, when isn’t the appropriate time for a Harry Potter reference? Especially when meeting someone new. It makes a perfect icebreaker. You can initiate with the question about their Hogwarts house which simultaneously informs you about their personality and whether they’re likely to become a good friend or a shallow acquaintance. Either is fine, of course. So… all in all I agree, do continue Lance,” the man spoke in rapid fire, all while his hand flipped and checked the grilling meats as if second nature. Keith’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, and sent a look to Lance. McClain only shrugged.

“This is Hunk. The first person to successfully make Gordon Ramsey weep because the food was just that good.” 

“It was a single man tear,” Hunk gestured a fake tear rolling down his cheek. Then in a cool, matter of fact tone said, “I had it bottled, framed it in a shadow box, and hung in my kitchen at home.”

“No matter how many times you say it, it’s still weird man,” Lance shook his head. Hunk only shrugged, not offering any defense. “Anyway, Hunk, this is Keith Kogane.” Hunk glanced back, nodding in understanding.

“Mmhmm, Keith Kogane, Lance’s musical rival trying to steal all of his fans…”

“I’m not-” the rock star objected.

“At least, that’s what all the discourse in the gossip articles say. However, I understand you can’t always believe what you read; unless it’s the other person’s diary which obviously isn’t going to be published in any public manner. I can make my own inferences and opinions…” the grill master eyed Keith up and down, waiting a tick before continuing. “So, what’s your Hogwarts house, Keith?”

Keith paused, a little afraid to answer, “...Gryffindor?” 

“Courageous, daring, but also hot-headed and reckless…” Hunk tapped his chin in thought, “Yes, I believe so. That fits wonderfully.”

“H-Hey,” Keith snapped, though a bit confused as to whether he should be flattered or insulted. 

“Here try this,” Hunk shoved a slice of steak in front of Keith’s face. With a little hesitation, Keith took the piece and put it in his mouth. Flavors burst on his tongue swirling into a combination that could only be described as pure perfection. He held a hand over his mouth, eyes widening. They glistened from the raw emotion. 

“I think I’m in love,” Keith breathed, gaze sparkling up at Hunk.

“Easy there tiger. That chef’s already take,” a dark skinned woman came up next to Hunk, squeezing his free hand. She had styled dark hair cut at her chin, flaring out. Her full lips pulled over her teeth in a genuinely kind smile. The woman’s eyes even seemed to glow with a deep-rooted compassion. 

“Oh! This is Shay, Hunk’s lady love,” Lance presented with a wave of his hands, a grin on his face. “Isn’t she absolutely gorgeous?”

“Aren’t I the one who's supposed to be telling people how beautiful my fiancé looks?” Hunk slung an arm around her waist, pulling Shay close to him.

“Sorry, Lance. Your charms don’t work as well as Hunk’s cooking,” she giggled. 

“Damn, a guy’s gotta try,” he snapped his fingers in feigned disappointment. Keith couldn’t help but smile at their back and forth. Warm emotion pooled in his chest. This wasn’t something he experienced every day. Interactions between people who truly cared about one another. Keith was not a recluse; he just didn’t like building relationships. It cost so much to care about someone. However, seeing these people, Lance and his friends, a small voice inside his mind questioned if maybe it was worth that cost. 

“We’d better bounce before I get into any more trouble,” Lance smirked, sending a wink to Shay. Lance then tugged on Keith’s arm, again, as he lead them both away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you might be a star, because I can't stop orbiting around you ;)
> 
> Comment and hit that kudos button ♥ Thank you for reading and stay tuned for more updates!


	3. Secret Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party continues...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Altean Definitions:  
> \- Tick, is an altean form of a second, ex. "give me a tick" . 
> 
> Chapter Notes:  
> Klance gets hot and heavy near the ending of this chapter. If I had to give a rating I'd say it's nothing over a PG-13 or TV-14 level. There is still swearing, some in Spanish this time! Also at one point, I did not put a ((translation)) after a specific Spanish phrase. This is because Lance later tells Keith (and you readers) what he said.

A few paces and they were out of the way. Both boys stopped, coming to an awkward stand still as Lance had run out of ‘buddies’ to introduce Keith to. “Sooo…” the Cuban rubbed the back of his neck, eyeing the man in front of him. 

“Yeah…” Keith kicked at nonexistent grass with his boot, the silence beginning to set his teeth on edge.

“I’m going to go get a drink,” McClain spoke finally, “You want anything?” Ceasing an escape from the tension between them, Keith shook his head in hasty reply. “Prepárate,” ((suit yourself)) With that final remark, he sauntered toward the tiki bar, the rock star’s violet eyes following him. Every few yards or so, someone would stop to chat him up. Keith wondered how Lance could be so calm; having to interact and entertain such a vast amount of people. The rock star himself could only really handle small affairs; the biggest event he had ever hosted was a surprise party for Shiro’s twenty-sixth birthday. And, if he was being frank, that turned into a complete disaster. It only took one awkward encounter at the punch bowl to cause a lifetime of embarrassment for him and two months’ worth of pouting from—supposedly grown man—Shiro. At least his brother and Allura were talking again… On the complete opposite of the social interaction spectrum, was Lance. He seemed to thrive off the attention, meeting each person with a smile, eyes twinkling like stars. 

“Distant pinning,” a nerdy, but somehow smooth, voice came from Keith’s right. He jumped, not expecting a person to suddenly appear next to him. “It should become an official sport, with how many people do it. Don’t you think?” Keith’s eyes met familiar amber colored ones. The pale skin was also the same, although the orange hair was to the shoulder length and a bit more controlled. Rainbow face paint was striped on both cheeks and blue glow sticks hung from the guy’s neck.

“Uhh-I wasn’t pinning. I was definitely not pinning,” Keith said firmly.

“It’s completely understandable if you were. Lance has that effect on people. He’s like a drug you can’t quite get enough of. Mmm I’d love to take a long swig of that particular Cuban…,” the young man, not much older than Keith, confessed. “I’m Matt, by the way,” he switched the drink he held to his left hand, offering his right to shake. Reluctantly, the rock star took it.

“Keith.”

“Nice to meet you, Keith—Oh Keith! The other guy from the magazine!” Keith nodded, sighing in defeat; at this party, he was known for being that guy. Maybe it was time to publicize more. Perhaps be a more socially active celebrity? Then again, that takes effort… “Lance talks about you a lot-like a lot, a lot.” Matt’s lips tilted in a crooked smile, his eyes a little far away in memory. 

“Really?” That came as a true surprise. 

“Yeah, I mean most of the time it’s about how annoying you are and how he plans to surpass you. But all the rest of the time…” Matt let the sentence die away, taking a well-placed gulp of his drink. 

“All the rest of the time what?”

“I-I don’t know,” Matt chuckled nervously, as if he wasn’t really meant to say anything. “Y-You’re just a pretty big inspiration to him, is all.” Keith opened his mouth to question further—because certainly Lance McClain, mister irritating and president of the I-hate-Keith fan club, could not possibly look up to him. An exclamation from Matt interrupted his train of thought. “Oooh! Hot papi three o’clock,” with that Matt was gone, headed in the direction of the newly arrived guest. Keith had to do a double take to be sure, but Shiro had just walked out onto the patio. His older brother wore a single heart shaped sticker supporting the demisexual colors, on his cheek. No other Pride apparel to be found. Always the minimalist… Then suddenly, Keith remembered all the things he was wearing.

“Shit!” The rock star scrambled behind a nearby, very skinny tree just as Shiro’s eyes scanned the crowd in his direction. Keith let out a relieved breath, looking back up to see his brother disappear into the mass. “What is he even doing here?” He hissed to himself, peering around the thin tree trunk.

“Who we hiding from?” Lance whispered, breath hot against Keith’s ear; causing Keith to jump for umpteenth time this evening. Lance stood behind him, two drinks in his hands. Noticing the lingering looks, McClain explained, “Thought you might change your mind.” Keith hastily took the cup and immediately began chugging the bitter liquid down. He brought the cup away from his lips, only after he'd finished it without a second breath of air, and set the empty cup on in the ground. “Damn… that's some breath control,” Lance whispered pink flushing his cheeks.

“My brother is here,” Keith said after managing to catch his breath. 

“Shiro?” Lance sharply looked in the direction the Keith had previously been staring. “I put him on the permanent guest list but he’s never actually shown up before...cool,” the last comment was a little squeaked. The Cuban glanced back down at Keith, who was still cowering behind the tree. “Why are you hiding?” Then it clicked, “Oh... he doesn’t-”

“No and I’d rather not come out like this...help me, please?” Lance stared, blue locking with violet in an intense gaze. What felt like a century passed before, McClain nodded.

“Alright, I’ll take you to my secret garden,” he grinned, grabbing Keith’s hand and tugging him toward the fence along the side of the house. A tall green hedged wall spanning from the house, to the fence that ran parallel. It separated a section of the backyard from the rest. It was tall and dense enough so nobody could peek inside. There was an oddly shaped cut out in the middle of the hedge, a garden door setting in it. The door was reddish brown wood, with an iron barred peeking window. In the opening, ivy vines were masterfully weaved in and out of the bars. Lance swiftly punched in numbers on the pin pad, and pulled the two of them inside. Whilst the Cuban closed them in, Keith’s eyes grew awestruck at the sight before him. 

It was bigger than he initially assumed it would be. The area was wide enough to fit a bench comfortably in one corner, a small fountain in the other. String lights hung on wires above their heads, giving the place a romantic glow and twinkle. Walls of flowers and foliage boxed in the secret garden. The cool colored flowering plants were purple passionflowers, complimented by deep blue morning glories and light fuchsia hyacinth bean vines. Warm colored flowers stood out against the dark; red orange trumpet vines, maroon clematis, and elongated teardrop shaped red honeysuckles. On the back wall was a curtain of pale blue wisteria vines that simply astounded Keith. Finally, a single well-tended red rose bush stood in the middle of the space. 

“Pretty great right,” Lance stepped up next to a captivated Keith. The rock star shook his head, jaw still a little slack.

“Great doesn’t cover it… it’s..it’s,” Keith struggled to find a word to describe the sight before his eyes. Dropping all attitude, and pretense, Lance let out a dreamy breath.

“Magnificent…”

“Exactly!” Keith exclaimed in complete agreement. In a softer voice he said, “It’s magnificent.” Lance stared up at the lights, his blue eyes shining with their reflections. “You’re nothing like I thought you were. Well, you’re still irritating as fuck and you have an overblown ego the size of Kerberos. But… hearing what all these people say about you. I wonder why you were such a dick to me at the photo-shoot…” Keith said the last part in a small voice, hoping not to offend too much, whilst still getting his point across. Without looking at him, Lance spoke up. 

“My baby sister… she loves flowers and she loves that book Secret Garden. I read parts of it too her every night. At first, it was to help her learn to read, and then it was just for the fun of it. We managed to get through it four times before I left Cuba…” a sad smile crossed Lance’s face, “I guess I still hope the rest of mi familia will be able to move here. That’s why I push so hard… I need to be popular; I need to get money to help them.” 

“Oh...I guess I can understand that,” Keith tried to emphasize. The Cuban took a sip of his drink. 

“And you said you’d never heard of me or my music. That’s not right, man,” a grin pulled at Lance’s lips. 

“Hey!” Keith shoved Lance’s arm, causing him to stumble back a pace. “I said no offense!” 

“Doesn’t matter, dude! Offense taken,” McClain grinned, laughter in his eyes. Keith looked away, trying to force down the smile threatening to appear on his face.

“Whatever…” Their conversation faded away and soon stood in a comfortable silence; just taking in the beauty of their surroundings. Soon Keith got antsy, eager to break the quiet again, “Thank you for hiding me… and for showing me this place.” 

“No worries,” McClain combed his fingers through his hair and walked away, sitting on the bench. Keith followed suit, sitting next to him. “Always ready to save a damsel in distress,” Lance sat back stretching an arm on the back of the bench; nearly touching the rock star’s shoulders. Keith’s eyebrows shot up his forehead.

“Are you trying to seduce me, McClain?”

“Is it working, Kogane?”

“I haven’t had enough drinks to give consent to that ascent,” Keith smirked, eyeing Lance. The Cuban raised his plastic cup, offering it to the other man. His teeth bit into his bottom lip, a nervous hand coming up to take the drink. Keith was overly aware of the feeling of Lance’s skin when their fingers brushed. His fingers tingled with the slight contact.

“So it is working!” Lance exclaimed, almost surprised. Keith shook his head, hiding a smile as he took a gulp of Lance’s drink. “Admit it; my charm is growing on you!” 

“You keep telling yourself that.” 

“Did it hurt,” the Cuban’s face broke into a shit-eating grin. 

“Oh no…” Keith rolled his eyes. What had he gotten himself into?

“When you fell for me? Ha! Didn’t expect that one did you,” Lance snickered. 

The rock star shook his head in shame, “You know what would really hurt? My fist colliding with your face.” Their gazes met, and Lance’s eyes suddenly grew wide with alert.

“Wait! Keith, hold still!”

“W-what?” Keith squeaked.

“Just,” Lance brought his hands to either side of Keith’s face, “hold still…” Keith wasn’t sure if it was a blush that heated his cheeks or the Cuban’s smooth tanned skin. His heart thudded faster, keenly aware of how close they were. Almost chest to chest, he could practically feel the warmth radiating from Lance’s body. 

“W-what! Is there something on my face?” Keith breathed, part of him pleading for Lance to go away and the other wishing he’d never let go. 

“No, sorry. I just got lost in your eyes,” big round blue eyes twinkled at him, eyelashes batting. 

“Ugh! Ya big cheese,” Keith shoved him away, a blush most definitely conquering his face now. Lance laughed, rubbing the aching spot where Keith had shoved him. 

“Come on, that one was good!”

The rock star shook his head, laughing back, “Not good enough!”

“Fine...But in all honesty, you do have really pretty eyes,” Lance let a genuine smile rise to his face. Keith’s mind officially stopped working at that moment. He stared, jaw slack, at the man before him. He’d never truly been complemented before. Lance tentatively raised his hand, letting his fingertips brush Keith’s face, moving unruly hairs back into place.

“T-Thank you…” Silence lapsed between them, though not for long.

“Hey mullet, this is where you say I have pretty eyes too,” Lance gave a wink. 

“Uh, erm, I don’t know,” Keith stuttered, eyes falling to the ground beneath their feet. 

“How can you not know? Either I have pretty eyes or I don’t. I’m either hot or not; swipe right or swipe left, Keith come on!” Lance teased edging closer, their thighs pressed together. They were sitting so closely Keith could barely breathe. 

“Okay! You’re really attractive! I’m very attracted to you right now,” Keith snapped, words flying from his mouth before he had a chance to process them. 

“Oh…” Lance blinked. The surprise in his eyes soon turned to a slow burning hunger. He leaned in close, his breath ghosting over Keith’s lips, “Then why don’t you prove it…”

“Fine. I will,” Keith whispered, gulping down the nerves in his throat. 

“Okay…go ahead then.” The rock star leaned forward at a snail's pace, but it didn’t take long for lips to meet lips. As soon as the initial force was overcome, Keith about melted into a puddle. He relaxed letting soft warm lips meet his repeatedly after each millimeter of parting. Each kiss was little and chaste, yet meaningful. Of course, Keith had been kissed before—if only by one or two others. Each time, he didn’t feel too much of anything emotionally; besides a lusty heat. That’s what he thought kissing was supposed to feel like; purely a physical act. But this kiss with Lance was something he’d never felt before. Emotion pooled behind his rips, his lips tingled with ever contact. It was as if a string of raw emotion connected them now. It was absolutely terrifying…

Keith so occupied with thoughts was shocked by Lance’s tongue tracing his bottom lip; requesting entrance. There came the heat, the surge of pleasure racing to his gut. Except it was different. It was lust but swirling together with a different feeling altogether. He suddenly felt, if he could never have this again—to never have these lips pressed to his again—he’d shatter. It was too overwhelming. It was too much for him to handle right now. In a rush, Keith pulled away resting his hands palms flat, on Lance’s chest. “What’s wrong?” A husky voice came from Lance. 

“N-Nothing…” Keith stuttered. Lance’s hunger clouded eyes, blinked, taking all the Cuban’s effort to clear them for a tick.

“You sure?” He spoke choppily; all his brain could manage. The other young man nodded, letting a small voice answer.

“I-It was-good.” After hearing this reply, Lance’s control expired and he leaned in going for another kiss. Keith turned his head, the Cuban’s lips connecting a light kiss to his neck. 

“Entonces bésame de nuevo guapo,” ((Then kiss me again, handsome)) Lance whispered seductive Spanish words in Keith’s ear. Kogane’s body surged with attraction, nearly knocking all his emotional defenses away. The Cuban boy speaking sweet foreign nothings into his ear was nearly too much for him. “Keith,” Lance moaned quietly, “por favor...kiss me, again.” Keith nearly groaned himself, biting his lip to keep it in. His hands he balled into fists on his thighs. One of Lance’s coarse hands covered his, the other touching Keith’s jaw. “Don’t you want to kiss me?” This time, Keith couldn’t stop a whine from escaping. 

Lance angled Keith’s jaw with his hand, a thumb brushing over his plump lips. “Está bien, voy a cuidar de ti...open up for me.” ((It’s alright, I’ll take care of you.)) With heavy lidded eyes, Keith looked up to Lance, parting his lips. The two met each other in a slow heated kiss. Lance’s tongue slipped through his parted lips, exploring his mouth. Keith’s own tongue soon matched Lance’s rhythm. The Cuban’s slender fingers twisted in Keith’s hair, tugging him closer. Keith’s hands grasped and pulled at Lance’s shirt, fingers clawing at his back. 

They both struggled to somehow pull their bodies closer. Their awkward sitting position irritating them both and hindered the ever-wanted friction. Lust hazed the air, hot grunts and moans coloring the space between them. Keith’s mind emptied, hesitation faded, and his body took over. He parted his lips in their sloppy kisses, and sucked lightly on Lance’s bottom lip, teeth sinking into a not so soft bite. “Ah ayay,” Lance winced in shock, separating them for a minute. The rock star quickly seized the opportunity. He shifted onto his knees, one on the outside of Lance’s hip—half straddling him—the other coming to rest in between his thighs, rutting against Lance’s crotch. “¡Carajo!” ((Fuck!)) The Cuban moaned, head falling back, leaving his neck arched up.

Leaning down, continuing to tease the man’s hardening erection, Keith attached his lips to the glistening tanned skin. After one light touch on of lips on skin, Kogane gave the spot open-mouthed kisses, tongue licking at the sweet cuban. Teeth grazed the spot, before lightly biting into the skin, sucking it red. “K-keith,” Lance whined, his hips curving up to meet the rock star’s knee. Smirking at his ability to control Lance, Keith abandoned the red, purpling spot. Then peppered soft kisses up Lance’s neck and jaw. 

“Yes?” He asked, sizzling breath against Lance’s ear, soon attaching his lips to the skin below the sharp corner of the other’s jawbone. Unable to think clearly, Lance tightened one hand on Keith’s neck, pulling at the dark hair there. The other grunted in surprise, pleasure shooting through him. A growl sat low in his throat, attacking Lance’s neck with greater fervor. Letting out pleasurable, drawn out moan, McClain’s other hand slid down Keith’s hard chest and over his taut stomach.

“Hermoso....precioso…..dura,” ((beautiful, gorgeous, hard)) Lance whispered as his fingers trailed further down Keith’s body. Those long slender fingers reached Keith’s painfully tight jeans, and Lance pressed his palm into the bulge there. 

“Ah...nggh,” Keith jolted, his forehead falling to Lance’s shoulder. An amused smirk came over Lance’s lips as he pressed again; firmer than before, letting his fingers drag over the ever-tightening cloth. The rock star’s breath stammered hot against the other’s shoulder, “L-Lan-c-e.” The Cuban pressed forceful kisses against the side of Keith’s neck, moving his hand around to grasp Keith’s ass. 

“Mejor que mis sueños! Keith your ass!” ((Better than in my dreams)) Lance bit his lip, fingers digging deeper into the jean covered flesh. Keith grabbed Lance’s wrist, bringing his lips back to Lance's. Skin tingling at the barely there touch of their lips, Keith spoke, eyes darkened with lust.

“Don’t stop…” Keith planted a sloppy kiss to Lance’s lips. “Touch me…” he whined his face on fire as he tugged at the Cuban’s firm grip. 

“Ssshhh, querido príncipe,” Lance cooed, gently carding his fingers through Keith’s hair; the other hand coming to rest lightly on Keith’s hip. “Would you like to continue this upstairs?” The rock star’s body tensed, but Lance continued his light gentle touches. 

“U-upstairs, as in-”

“It’s up to you,” Lance gave a light touch to Keith’s chin, bringing them eye to eye, “I won’t be angry, if you’d rather not. We can just stay here for a while.” The Cuban’s eyes were soft now, no smirk or mischievous hint in them. They genuinely sparkled at Keith’s own. His heart swelled, feeling butterflies swarming in his chest.

“I’d like to continue…” Keith bit his lip, jerking his head to the house, “You know, up there.” Lance’s face lit up with delight.

“Really!” His eyes were eager and hopeful. At a nod from the rock star, the boy was up jumping to his feet, barely catching Keith who staggered a bit at the sudden movement.

“Come on!” Lance spoke excitedly as Keith rose from the bench. “You won’t regret this, mi querido príncipe,” the Cuban wrapped an arm around Keith’s waist. He pulled the young man flush against him. Their bulges pressing together, both let out a moan of relief to finally receive what they’d been yearning for. Their noses touched in soft nudges and burning groans mixed in the narrow air between them.

“What does that mean; what you keep saying in Spanish?” Keith huffed, out of breath, eyes looking up through dark eyelashes. Lance smirked and leaned to the other’s ear. 

“You like when I speak Spanish to you?” Keith hummed low in his throat, in a very hearty agreement. “Then I’ll teach you all the fun words soon, dear prince.” 

“P-p-prince?” Red blush flooded Keith’s cheeks and down his neck. Lance peeled their bodies apart—with some reluctance—and took the rock star’s hand to lead him out of the garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You must be the speed of light, because time stops when I look at you! ;) Comment and hit that Kudos ♥
> 
> Hey, beautiful! Expect an update soon, next week at the latest. You can look forward to some more steamy Klance. It's about to get R rated ;)


	4. Threading the Needle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They called him the Tailor...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes:   
>  This chapter begins with some fluffy exposition and banter with Lance and Keith. However after that, it gets down right smutty. I would definitely give this an R rating, so reader discretion is advised. I don't want to spoil anything for you, so I'll leave it at that. 
> 
> Also, keep in mind that this is just the beginning of Keith and Lance's story together. There is a lot more Klance in store.

They quickly rejoined the party, but Lance lead them straight toward the house. Aggravatingly slow, the two eager boys weaved in and out of people. Lance wore a shining grin, politely brushing off the people that tried to stop and talk with him. Keith’s heart raced, a giddy smile pulling at his lips. 

Upon entering the house, Lance picked up the pace. Keith was dragged behind passing a number of awed faces. One particular face caught his attention as they whistled. Matt, the must be close relative of Pidge, shot a wink and thumbs up in his direction. The rock star shrugged, unable to lessen his smile. 

“Go get em tiger!” Was all Keith heard as he was suddenly yanked up the stairs, after Lance. Quick glimpses of the second floor, told Keith what he’d already imagined; elaborate cinema and game setup in an open walled room to the right of the stairs, luxurious furnishings in the open rooms they passed, and glow stick jewelry hanging on the door handles of a few of the closed rooms; obviously occupied. McClain took him passed all these, down a lengthy hallway, toward a door at the very end. They stopped at the final door, and Lance turned to Keith. 

Grinning like a fool, he said, “Give me your left wrist.” Keith’s eyebrows furrowed, squinting at him. “Oh come on, I won’t bite,” Lance winked. With a roll of his eyes, Keith did as he was told. Lance, using a feathered touch, took Keith’s wrist in one hand, sliding the glow stick off with the other. Letting go, he moved to take the glowing crown from the rock star’s head. “Your highness,” Lance gave a slight bow after removing it. 

“Shut up,” Keith muttered, watching Lance remove his own glowing apparel as well. He turned, looping them over the door knob. It was then Keith realized what door they were standing in front of. “Wait… Isn’t this room off limits?” The boy gestured to the light blue painted door. Lance raised an eyebrow at him, turning the knob in his hand. 

“It’s my house, remember?” 

“Oh, right,” Keith rubbed the back of his neck, an awkward laugh leaving him. Shaking his head, Lance swung open the door waving for Keith to go in first. Giving a smirk, he gestured at the birthday boy, “Age before beauty.” Lance’s lips pursed in annoyance. 

“Just get in there asshole.” Keith laughed, a musical sound, as he walked into the room. His eyes wandered taking in the features of the dark room. It was obviously the large master suite, a queen going on king size bed in the middle of it. On the right side, three quarters of the wall was made of glass windows overlooking the bright lights of the city. The rest of the room was, not messy, but lived in. Blank and half used sheet music was spread out in disarray on the desk; a few instrument cases standing in the corner. Family pictures and posters adorned the left wall. Taking a step further in, he noticed what the posters actually had on them. They were prints of the Milky Way and Pegasus galaxies, NASA’s headquarters, the Hubble telescope, and one of Neil Armstrong on the moon. Looking up, Keith saw the ceiling speckled with glowing stars; he was sure he even picked out a few constellations that were painstakingly arranged. Keith abruptly turned around, facing Lance with raised eyebrows. “What?”

“You,” he poked at Lance’s chest, “are a space nerd.” Lance glanced around, a shy smile coming to his lips, and a hand running through his hair. 

“Guilty. Always dreamed if music didn’t work out, I’d been an astronaut.” Keith’s mind went straight to Lance in a tight astronaut uniform with messy helmet hair. He shook his head, hoping to rid the image from his brain before his body started getting too excited. 

“Uh-before music, I thought I’d go into the Air Force and be a fighter pilot,” Keith laughed a little, “Space wouldn’t have been so bad either. But Shiro said after a year I’d be booted--something to do with my ‘issue with authority’.” Lance’s lips curled into a smile. 

“Maybe in another lifetime, another universe…” 

“I’d still fly circles around you,” Keith teased giving his own sly smirk to the Cuban. 

“You would not! I’ll have you know I’m an awesome pilot! Pidge even hacked into NASA for me once and let me do simulations.” 

“I bet you crashed,” another laugh came from the rock star. Lance crossed his arms and stuck out his bottom lip. 

“I-shut up. Those are hard.” 

“Shiro’s got a buddy that tests simulators for a living and let me try it. I beat one they’d been failing at for weeks,” Keith boasted. Lance stepped into Keith’s space, eyeing him. 

“Part of me is irritated as hell at that…” 

“And the other part,” Keith’s eyelids drooped, feeling arousal thicken the air between them again. 

“Finds it really, really hot.” He brought Keith’s knuckles to his lips, planting a slow kiss to them. Lance felt up Keith’s chest and slipped his hands under his leather jacket, pulling it off his shoulders. Letting the coat fall to the floor, Lance took in Keith’s white sleeveless shirt. His lips peppered kisses up Keith’s right arm, each touch pulling the other boy closer. As he reached the rock star’s taut muscled bicep he hummed against the skin there. His eyes adjusted to the dark soon, and he suddenly realized there was ink on Keith’s arm. “Is that a tattoo?!” Lance’s head pulled away to get a better look. On the inner side of Keith’s bicep, was a dark curly lined, tribal tattoo in the shape of a dagger, length from almost his arm pit to his elbow. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo!” 

“Yeah most people don’t, ‘cause I wear my jacket all the time…” Keith shrugged, not really understanding the big fuss. 

“No puedes ser un verdadero….You are too damn attractive.” ((You can’t be true)) Lance groaned, slowly threading his fingers in the loops of Keith's jeans, thrusting their hips together. Both let out hitched breaths at the contact. Noses brushing, their lips ghosted over each others; heat intensifying with anticipation. Keith hooked an arm around the back of Lance’s neck, the other hand grasping at the collar of his shirt. He yanked Lance closer, finally crashing their lips together. Tongues meeting, Lance groaned, hands finding Keith’s ass again. Pleasure surged through them both. Keith’s skin was on fire, his clothes only a hindrance. He wanted them gone but he couldn’t break away. 

Lance’s hand slid lower, rubbing Keith’s thigh, and finally hooking his hand at the rock star’s knee. He pulled it up to his waist, trying to get Keith to curl around him. A low growl erupted from the other boy’s throat and he pulled away. He grasped at Lance’s wrist, tugging until Lance let go. Eyes brimming with a hungry desire, Keith gazed at him. 

“What makes you think,” Keith stepped forward, causing Lance to stumble until his back met the door. He pressed his body close, hands taking Lance’s wrists and forcing them against the door, “That I’d be the submissive one.” Slack jawed, Lance mumbled a reply, voice thick with thirst. 

“I-just--ah-I thought-” He let the words die, as the other boy bit at his neck. “S-shit how am I going to cover these in the morning?” 

“Shut up,” Keith pressed the young man harder into the door. “Now don’t move,” Keith ordered, letting go of Lance’s hands, and began kissing down his neck to his collarbone. As his tongue pressed into the curved bone, Keith’s hands yanked at Lance’s tucked in shirt. The fabric came free of his waistband without much problem, but it still clung to Lance’s body. Breaking away, the rock star glared at the annoying suspenders hindering his progress. His hands fumbled trying to work them loose. Lance couldn’t help letting out an unmanly giggle. Keith was just too cute when he was angry. 

“If I may,” he slowly lowered his hands, unclipping the suspenders and they fell away. Without a word, Keith about tore the shirt from Lance’s body, revealing even more tanned, delicious skin. Lips returned to their previous position, marking up the Cuban's collar bone. Pale hands wandered up and down Lance’s sides. He had a less defined chest, and elongated frame, but it sent Keith’s mind spinning; especially his curved hips. The rock star groaned, gripping Lance’s waist and grinding down against him. 

Lance had gone much too quiet for Keith’s liking; only leaving breathy huffs in the air. Moving lower, his lips ghosting down to Lance’s dark nipple taking it between his teeth. His tongue rolled over the bud, sucking gently. With his free hand, Keith took the other bud in his fingers twisting and tugging it. Lance’s chest quivered at the stimulation. 

“A-ahyay…” Lance mumbled, head slamming back against the door. The Cuban's hips bucked up, needing more. “Keith you tease me too much!” He keened in broken English. Smirking against Lance’s skin, Keith moved his lips down. He trailed open mouthed kisses using his tongue along the center of Lance’s stomach, and down to his waist line. Lips pulling away, Lance whined with the loss of contact--gazing heavy lidded down at the man. Bright violet eyes met his, keeping contact as one of Keith’s hands held onto Lance’s smoothed hip, while the other palmed against Lance’s crotch. Pleasure surged over him, his hips arching up to meet Keith’s hand. Talented fingers worked the bulge, rubbing back and forth, then pressing firmly, and suddenly taking away the pressure; over and over until Lance was a whimpering, heated mess. 

One particularly hard grope came and was taken away, a low and long moan seeped from Lance’s mouth. Without warning, Keith stood stepping back eyeing the Cuban. “Wha-Keith…” The rock star made a move to slowly flex his arms, pulling his shirt over his head revealing a toned pale chest shining with a layer of sweat. He beckoned Lance closer with a single finger. Gulping, Lance complied, hands finding the pale boy’s chest, pressing firmly into the muscles. He couldn’t help but kiss the creamy skin at Keith’s neck; sucking gentle but passionate kisses there. The tightness in Keith’s body faded. His head turned to give Lance a better angle. For a moment, just a moment, he would let Lance take care of him--he could be vulnerable. The Cuban peppered persuasive, sweet kisses to his neck and chest; almost as if he adored every last inch of Keith’s pale skin. Then the man’s hands trailed to the tight waistband of his jeans, making quick work of unbuttoning them. Keith bit the inside of his cheek humming at the slender hand that grazed his clothed erection. 

“G-get on the bed,” Keith spoke a little out of breath, his commanding tone wavering. 

“Yes, your highness,” Lance gave a pout but pulled his hand away, hips swaying as he walked to the bed. He turned, flopping on the bed and rested on his elbows, legs still bent over the end. Keith followed him, only to force the other boy’s knees wider apart. Sinking down, he let his nose nuzzle against Lance’s groin; finding the zipper with his teeth. With more focus and effort than he'd care admit, he was able to pull it down. Then, Keith’s skilled fingers quickly unbuttoned the final restriction on Lance’s pants. His hot mouth put parted kisses on the cuban’s boxers. Tongue rolling over the hardening member. A hitched breath came from above him, Lance’s hips involuntarily bucking up into Keith’s lips. Broken moans came from above, as Keith mouthed at his covered cock. The hot wetness made Lance’s head spin, his hands fisting at the sheets. A whine came, as Keith lifted away, adjusting his position in between Lance’s legs on the bed.

Keith moved over top of Lance, now eye to eye. The blue orbs were half lidded, swimming with want. His breath left him for a moment, taking in the beauty of the face before him. He could pick out every shine to Lance’s skin, every color in his eye, the blush that lit his face. Lance stared right back, searching those violet eyes for something; though unsure of what. Sharing this intimate space with someone was new to both of them; new emotions swirled between the two. It was something so different and powerful, neither knew what to make of it or how to respond. So, they leaned together feeling drawn like magnets and pressed their lips on each others. 

It started out light, almost awkward as they seemed to get to know each other’s mouths again. But then their movements synced, parting and pressing and pulling on one another. Lance’s hands curled around Keith’s back, his stubbed nails pressing creases into the rock star’s skin. Keith’s body rolled closer, arms steadying him on either side of Lance’s head. Their hips grinding against each other’s, they hissed and whimpered at the building feeling of pleasure. Sparks burned between them, electrifying their skin. In a quick move, Keith’s hand found its way under Lance’s boxers. He wrapped his quivering fingers around Lance’s cock, giving it a firm grip. 

“Ah-” Lance gave a sharp quiet sound, separating their lips. Head rolling back, eyelids fluttering, the feeling of Keith’s hand almost too much already. The rock star’s fingers were soft but those stupid fingerless gloves gave a totally different feeling as they rubbed up and down on his dick. “Q-Que se siente bien,” ((that feels good)) Lance muttered, unintelligible syllables falling from his lips with only a few understandable words. “Por favor no alto, d-don’t stop...si,” Keith’s wrist twisted and pulled slower and faster at alternating times. “Tu mano es c-caliente..K-Keith, déjame tocarte también!” ((Your hand is hot. Let me touch you too!)) Lance spoke in a thick tone, making eye contact which caused Keith to momentarily stop. 

“What is it,” Keith asked breathily almost unable to speak, fire coursing through his veins. 

“Can I touch you?” Gnawing on his lip, Keith nodded and then watched as Lance gripped his already undone skintight jeans, dragging them down low on his thighs. Then a slender hand reached into Keith’s boxers, finding his underappreciated cock. Lance curled his fingers giving a slow experimental pull. Keith’s forehead fell onto Lance’s shoulder, a long husky moan resounding from him. Lance grinned, beginning to move more confidently. Keith soon resumed his previous actions, though now in time with Lance’s. Their hips bucked, finding the friction gratifying. 

They filled the room with their voices. Moaning and mumbling encouragements to each other. Skin pressed to heated skin, hips rolling up to met pressure. Pleasure waved over and over in their bodies. Lance getting particularly vocal. He seemed not to care who heard, spewing foreign profanities that only intensified Keith’s arousal. The rock star gave one long grazing pull, biting harshly into Lance’s collar bone. The Cuban back arched, the coil in his gut twisting tighter and tighter. Keith growled possessively into Lance’s chest, his thumb pressing into the slit of Lance’s cock. 

“A-a-aya!” The coil in Lance's gut snapped, his liquid spilling onto his own stomach. Keith gulped, nearly coming from the look on Lance’s face. His head was flung back, lips red and swollen, open in a not so silent oh. His grip on Keith’s member tensed, tightening. Eyes squeezing shut, one hand clinging tight to the sheets next to Lance's head, Keith groaned deep and low biting into his lip; drawing the taste of metallic blood to his mouth. Hot liquid seeped from his arousal, beading down Lance’s hand and released the coiling pressure in Keith’s groin. 

Lance’s back fell back on the bed, his hand letting go, falling beside him. After a few heaved breaths he raised his head. His lips were curled in a dreamy smile, eyes heavily clouded with post organism bliss. He looked down at his stomach covered in light cum. An awkward laugh came from him. “Well that’s embarrassing. I’m not usually one to come f-f-f,” Lance stuttered, as Keith bent low dragging his tongue slowly up Lance’s stomach. The rock star could have gagged at the taste but, it was Lance and a sick part of him really enjoyed the strangled squeaks spilling from the Cuban's mouth as his tongue ran up his skin. “Dios mio, Keith you’re gonna make me hard again doing shit like that.” 

After finishing his work, Keith gave a sly smirk at Lance. He slid off, making his body drag against the other man’s as he stood up. Keith’s eyes raked up and down the squirming mess before him. Chestnut brown hair was disheveled, slender fingers clung onto the sheets, a heated blush spreading from his chest to cheeks making his whole body glow. With little warning, Keith curled his fingers under Lance’s hemline and tugged his shorts down, taking his blue boxers with them. “Oooh,” Lance breathed, understanding where Keith was going with this. The rock star quickly returned to his spot, kneeling between the Cuban's spread legs. He made a show of catching Lance’s eyes, bringing his hand to his own lips. He took the dark fabric between his teeth, he yanked off each of his now, messy gloves. With completely bare hands Keith grasped Lance’s knees, palms kneading up and down his smooth caramel thighs. Forceful hands pressed the Cuban's knees up higher. Keith began pressing his lips on the inner sides of Lance’s thighs. 

“Do you have-” Keith mumbled hotly against Lance’s skin. 

“Y-yeah,” Lance breathed, twisting to reach under the side of his bed. After a moment of shuffling and grunts, he came up with a small bottle in his hand. The rock star wasn’t even going to question why Lance had that so close at hand. Thoughts melted away, as Keith’s fingers shook slightly taking the bottle from a dazed Lance. A smile cracked the Cuban's face. “Príncipe, you're shaking like it’s your--” Lance’s body jolted, raising up on his elbows. “Keith...Is this your first time?” Keith bit his lip, nuzzling his blushing face into the Lance's raised thigh. His heart pounded in his chest, nerves fluttering in his stomach. Though completely terrified, he felt an overwhelming trust in the Cuban. 

“D-does it matter…” He rubbed small circles in Lance’s leg muscles. The boy underneath him rose to a sitting position, legs falling from Keith’s grasp. Dread filled the rock star’s gut. There was a look on Lance’s face he couldn't decipher. It couldn’t be...regret? Disgust?...no, it couldn’t… Then his next words made Keith’s blood run cold. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” Lance didn’t even look Keith in the eye. 

“What?” Keith whispered, sure he couldn’t have heard right. The Cuban moved back, quickly leaning down and grabbing his shorts. Keith scrambled off the bed to get out of the way. “W-what are you-” 

“I shouldn’t have let it get this far,” he didn’t look up as he pulled on his shorts. 

“Hey!” Anger bubbled to the surface, Keith grabbing hold of Lance’s arm. “What the hell are you talking about? You were fine a second ago! You were enjoying it! You-you liked what I was doing...you l-liked me...right?” Lance could see it happening, as soon as he locked eyes with Keith. No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t deal with this. 

“We should have talked about this before-I-I’m sorry it shouldn’t have happened like this,” Lance shook his head, words stuttering from his lips. His mind was racing a million miles an hour. “I can’t-” 

“Can’t what?” Something snapped in Keith. His heart hardening, rage coming to the surface. “Can’t sleep with me? Because I’m a virgin? What I’m suddenly not good enough for the great Lance McClain, because I don’t put out to every guy I come across? I should have known. You’re just like every other asshole out there. I’m just another box you can check off on some fucked up celebrity do list.” Keith turned in frustrated anger, buttoning up his pants and grabbing his shirt. He tugged it roughly back over his head and snatched up his jacket. Keith stomped toward the door, before being stopped by Lance’s voice. 

“That is not what I’m saying. Wait a damn second would you,” the Cuban met up with Keith in a few strides. Kogane turned on his heels, a furious fire in his eyes. 

“No, you know what, I'm glad” Keith shoved a finger in Lance’s chest. “Really glad you stopped me from making the biggest mistake of my life. Cause guess what Lance McClain, I know exactly who you really are. You're just an egotistical, emotionally screwed up, “ Keith could see every insult hitting Lance like daggers, “little boy who deserted his family and is probably never going to see them again!” His breath heaved, finding satisfaction in the broken look on Lance’s face. Then, Keith’s brain finally caught up to all he said. The light left Lance’s eyes and his face went blank. He stared at a fixed point behind Keith, unwavering. “Oh, no, oh my god Lance I didn’t-” 

“It’s time for you to go,” was all the Cuban said. Keith’s throat tightened, his hand gripping his jacket tightly. His eyes widened at what he’d done, all the anger he’d felt a moment ago turned to shame. How could he have said such a thing? He understood why Lance wanted him gone, so he didn’t argue. Keith’s hand shook as he turned and held the door knob. 

“I…” Keith gulped, his mouth going dry. “Lance… you didn't deserve that. My god, you didn't deserve any of this. I was… Just.. hurt. I’m-so sorry,” Keith’s voice was barely over a whisper, he didn’t know if the other boy even heard. 

“I know.” Lance’s voice came in an equally quiet tone, a little quiver in it. “But I still...need you to go.” With that, Keith couldn’t take the heartbreak in the room anymore. He forced the door open his steps faster and faster as he went down the hall. Soon he was stumbling haphazardly down the stairs. The pain the rage had been masking abruptly hit his chest. It branched off in aching vines from his heart. He stumbled on the last step, ramming straight into someone’s back. The brute turned, looking down. 

“Keith?! What are you-What happened,” Shiro’s voice barely pierced Keith’s foggy mind. 

“N-nothing, I’m going home,” Keith’s voice cracked, pain swelling behind his eyes. He was not going to cry in front of his brother, in front of all these strangers. 

“No, something happened! Tell me who did this to you?” Shiro had his protective dad voice going again. Keith nearly laughed, nearly… but he couldn’t, if he did he’d definitely start crying. He pushed passed Shiro with a firm shoulder. 

“I’m going home!” Keith quickened his pace to a run, praying Shiro wouldn’t come after him. He bobbed and weaved in and out of people until he finally burst out the front door. Fresh air met him, and he couldn’t hold back. He threw up a hand to cover his face, a tear spilling passed his barriers. Before he could completely let go, he heard the distinct sound of a camera click. Momentarily distracted, he jerked his hand away, searching the front yard. Then he saw the figure. “Damn it!” 

Cover now blown, the figure raced up to get closer shots. Keith pressed forward toward the parking lot. He held a hand in front of his face, growling profanities at the photographer as he raced to his bike. With a hasty hand he yanked down his helmet and gave the engine an ear splitting rev before speeding out of the parking lot. And he was gone, feeling the speed of his bike under him and the pain of his heart falling apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real talk now, I apologize for all the Klangst I just laid out up there^^ Remember what I said in the beginning notes about Keith and Lance's story? It'll continue, I promise. And this fic does end happily. Just hang in there, beautiful readers. It'll be worth it. 
> 
> Are you dark matter? 'Cause you're indescribable! ;) Comment and hit that Kudos button ♥ !!


	5. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes:  
> No major warnings with this one. More Hunk and Lance interactions, as well as Keith and Shiro bro time. In the middle of this chapter there will be a point of view change. I'll make it as obvious as I can. 
> 
> Definitions:  
> At one point Shiro talks about a time, 10 am, and refers to it in military time. I just wanted to let y'all know so you weren't confused about the wording. 
> 
> A/N:  
> I do know this is a late update, and I am sorry for leaving you hanging! This is a little longer than my other updates. And I'll still be posting later this week as well.

Lance woke up in the morning, face mushed oh so attractively against his pillow. His body ached with exhaustion and the pain that last night had caused. Pulling himself up, he wiped at his mouth, grimacing at the drool. He never did this. He had a very specific bedtime routine; including a very expensive kelp and seaweed face mask and a playlist of songs with enhanced delta waves to promote restful sleep. In the rush of emotional confusion the night before brought, the routine was completely forgotten. 

Last night had not gone at all, as Lance had imagined it would. If he were being honest with himself, he’d imagined it more times than was respectable. Lance has followed Keith’s music for years as a committed fanboy. Actually kissing the Keith Kogane was something he’d only dreamed about before. Just the memory of it sent warm tingles through his chest. There was a deeper connection there than he would have ever predicted. Not that it mattered now. Lance had blown it, both of them had blown it. He clenched his jaw, pushing up from the bed and going to find some sweat pants to put on. 

As he aimlessly pulled on pants, his mind buzzed with the words said the previous night. It hadn’t been his intention to hurt Keith. Quite the opposite. He’d only wanted to protect him. Lance knew what it was like giving their all to someone and regretting it. It happened at a party not to long after he immigrated and signed on with an agent. It was the first big event he’d actually been invited too and truth be told, it was overwhelming. However, there was one person who seemed to know everything about what Lance was feeling. Seemed to be the one sane thing in the midst of an immense crowd. And, of course, they were attractive and lending Lance the attention he craved. One thing came to another and Lance gave it up. Which wouldn’t have hurt so much if the person didn’t walk out right after, throwing a little cash his way, telling him to go buy himself something pretty. He felt utterly worthless at that moment. Like he was just a plaything. He never wanted anyone else to feel what he did. Especially not Keith. 

It’s not as if Lance would have done anything close to that. But, really, was he even worth someone giving him that? It was too precious to waste on a guy like him, right? Explaining that to Keith didn’t come out the way Lance had wanted. He came off as the asshole who wouldn’t sleep with someone because they didn’t have the “experience”. The Cuban shook his head sternly and pulled open the door. 

He shuffled down the hall, groggily going down the stairs. Reaching the bottom of the steps and entering the living room, he could see the house had made it through without too big of a mess. He’d pay the housekeepers’ a little extra as compensation and maybe have Hunk bake them up some cookies. Speaking of, the large boy laid sprawled on the long couch in the living room, mouth open and snoring. Lance grinned a little at his friend, rubbing the sleep from his eye. He was just about to head to the kitchen when a sharply dressed Allura came from the opposite hall, cell phone in her hand, thumbs typing a million miles an hour. 

“Lance, you’re awake…” She looked up and down him, a little surprised at his slobbed state. “You look terrible…And I thought you had a personal rule about not hooking up with anyone at your parties?” Allura eyed Lance’s neck and bare chest. The Cuban looked down at himself, red and purple blotches making an uneven trail up from his hips to his neck--which he recalled now was likely to be covered in marks. Damn, Kogane... a sly smile ghosted on his lips.

“I-um,” Lance rubbed his neck lightly, feeling a little tenderness, “I don’t…I guess last night was different.” Allura just raised an eyebrow tsking. 

“Uuuuggghh,” a ghostly groan came from the couch, as a tired Hunk rose up like a mummy. He gasped in a huge breath, “I live again!” Lance snickered, leaning over and clapping him on the shoulder.

“Good to have you back, buddy.” Hunk blinked groggily up at Lance.

“What century is it?”

“21st century, Earth, morning after one lit party,” Lance grinned, hiding the pang that remembering sent through his chest. Hunk rubbed his eyes clearing the sleep from them. Allura chimed in.

“More like afternoon after, it’s nearly 2 o’clock. Good thing I planned ahead and scheduled all your recordings for later today.” Lance let out a whistle, before Hunk spoke up. The chef had finally gotten a good look at the cuban this morning.

“Dude, you’re turning purple,” Hunk pointed at the marks on Lance’s body. 

“Oh yeah, just a new color I’m trying out. What do you think,” Lance put a hand on his hip, raising his arm behind his head in over dramatic pose. The chief nodded, pursing his lips.

“You look fabulous. It really brings out your eyes.” The cuban touched his chest,

“Gracias, hermano.” 

“Lance,” Allura called not looking up from her phone, “Some flowers were delivered earlier, they’re in the kitchen.” His eyebrows furrowed as he made his way into said room. On the island sat a rather large bouquet of red, blue, yellow, and white flowers. It was in a vase of crystal cut glass, a green bow tied around the neck. A tag hung down from the ribbon. Lance’s heart thumped happily against his chest. To the surprise of most everyone, Lance had never gotten flowers before. Well unless the dandelions his little sister used to pick him counted. The cuban’s mind raced as he slowly pulled the tag off, to read it. Certainly, it could not be from whom he thought… It had only been last night. 

Biting the inside of his cheek, Lance forced himself to open it. It was quite a long note, typed in an old fashion font.

“To McClain,

Flowers have their own special language, the sender of this bouquet wishes to use their language to help him express a message to you. The red peonies are a symbol of the sender’s shame, they say ‘I’m so sorry!’ The white gardenia’s say, “You’re lovely, inside and out.” The yellow tulips speak, ‘your smile is as bright as the sunshine!’ And the iris’s relay the final sentiment, ‘They cherish the relationship the two of you share.’ 

From ‘a certain mullet-brained jackass’”

He read the card over and over again. Lance grinned, leaning to smell the flowers once more before heading back. He couldn’t believe what he’d read, that jerk really was too good to be true. Walking back into the living room, his eyes went straight to the blaring television. It was on the “Out of this World” show where the hosts gossiped about celebrities getting wasted or pregnant or divorced or whatever. Lance was about to ask Hunk to turn it off when something came on that drew his attention. He tripped, nearly falling over at the pictures plastered over the screens. 

A photo of a very emotional looking Keith spread across the tv. He was shoving his hand toward the camera, rainbow bracelet blatantly obvious; not to mention the severely smudged rainbow face paint, messy sex hair, and a light red marks on his arms from Lance’s explorations. Big rainbow colored lettered splattered across the tv monitor, “Keith Kogane, GAY?!”

“Did you just second handedly out Keith to like… the entire universe?” Hunk raised his eyebrows, glancing back at his friend. Dread dropped deep in the pit of his stomach, he was sure he was going to be sick right there. Clenching his jaw, Lance held back last night’s dinner. 

“Allura!” Lance’s body began to shake, anger settling in. The agent didn’t bat an eye to his pissed off tone; it wasn’t aimed at her. 

“Already on it,” Allura in the time it had taken to see the story was already on the phone, calling contacts at the station. 

“After that merida es off the screens, I want all my guests’ profiles recheck, I want the name of that hijo de puta who took that picture, and I want to know how the HELL they got passed my security,” ((shit, son of a bitch)) Lance raged. This wasn’t meant to happen. No…No, this wasn’t real… this couldn’t have happened. Not in the safe place he made, not to Keith. Suddenly a dizzy sensation came over him; he leaned on the couch for support a hand covered his eyes. “I-I promised he’d be safe...that he could be himself...and now… Dios en el cielo, perdóname, he trusted me. I-I wonder if he’s heard yet…” ((Lord in heaven forgive me))

“I think he’s heard. Look,” Hunk nudged, Lance’s eyes snapped up to the screen again. The smooth voice of the reporter told him it was a live feed from the Keith’s residence. A slightly shaky camera feed panned over an elegant, three story house. A tall fence gated the long drive, the front section mangled and pulled apart. The camera zoomed in on the garage door. There were workers scrubbing red spray paint from the tanned door. As hard as they scrubbed, the stained words were still legible. In sprawled, messy script it read, “dick suckin fag!!!”

“I have to go see him,” Lance straightened up, hands balling into fists. He went straight toward the front door still barefoot and shirtless, but didn’t care. 

“Dude, come on,” Hunk scrambled up, catching the Cuban by the arm. “Think about it. He’s already got enough going on. No need to go over there and give the press more reason to stick around. And honestly he’s probably not a big fan of you right now. Just let things chill...give him time.” 

“But,” Lance argued weakly, knowing Hunk was right. 

“I know you want to go charging in on some white horse to his rescue, but you can’t this time. Right now he needs his brother and space to figure out his next move.” 

 

“How do you know so much, oh wise sensei?” Lance sighed, his chest heaving, an empty space settled there.

“I’m a chef, I gotta know what people need so I can take care of them,” Hunk grinned and pulled Lance into a bear hug. “And at this moment, Lance McClain needs a good ole Hunk hug and a shower. Like really bad dude, you smell rancid.” Lance grinned a little; still distracted. He wondered what Keith was doing now… 

************************

Keith laid in bed, staring at his dull ceiling; his min drifting to those glowing stars. Never-ending streams of thoughts had been buzzing through him since he’d gotten home. Sleep evaded him except for a few restless hours here and there. It was soon after Keith had gotten home that, Shiro returned as well. A knock sounded on his door then, but he’d ignored it and Shiro left him alone. Turning his head, he read the red numbers on his alarm clock, 8:37 am. Groaning Keith rolled over and pulled the blankets over his head. 

SCREECH!! Keith jumped up hearing a car’s tires peeling out somewhere close. He ran up to his window, and saw the tail end of a beat up ford speeding down his street. The front gate to his driveway had been broken open and silver cylindrical cans littered the driveway. “What the hell-” Keith bolted from his room and nearly rammed into Shiro who looked to be going to investigate as well. He had a grey wife beater on, dark exercise pants, and sweat on his brow from his morning push-ups. They locked eyes for a millisecond, sharing in a silent message of urgency. They immediately headed down the stairs and out the front door together. 

Both slid to a halt in front of their garage door, the foul chemical smell of wet paint smothering the air. Keith gulped, not even phased by the comment, more concerned by Shiro’s reaction. His brother just stood, staring at the writing. The man’s arms by his sides, fists clenching. With one final stern look, he yanked his phone out of his sweat pants pocket. “W-why would someone do this? What’s going on…” Keith’s voice shook. His head felt light and a cold sweat began to collect on his neck. Shiro’s mouth pressed into a firm line staring at something on his cell. Taking in a breath, he turned to face Keith, his eyes and face suddenly gentle and sensitive. 

“It probably has something to do with this,” Shiro showed Keith the image of an online celebrity gossip magazine. There was a picture of Keith outside Lance’s house, red puffy eyes, an angry look on his face, and the numerous amount of rainbow artifacts on his person encircled by digitally enhanced magnification. The title of the article read, Is Everyone’s Favorite Emo Rock Star, Keith Kogane, Gay? Keith’s breath came in quick uneven intervals. A shaky hand came to cover his eyes; he couldn’t look at the image anymore. He couldn’t believe this. How could one night, that start out so fucking well, end so badly. “I’ll call someone to get this cleaned up… Look, while I do that why don’t you go inside? I already started some coffee, get you some and we can talk about it more when I get done.” 

Without argument Keith turned, taking slow dizzy steps. He made his way back into the house. His surroundings were blurred and unidentifiable as he walked straight to the back of the house to their stainless steel themed kitchen. Keith thought about getting coffee but couldn’t work up enough effort. So, he slumped down into a bar stool and rested his head down on the cool granite. The rock star’s mind went blank. It’s not as if he didn’t want to think—on the contrary really. He wanted to think, he wanted to make a plan; wanted some semblance of control over the situation. But, nothing came. Keith’s mind was a wall of black emptiness. 

He should feel something by now shouldn’t he; fear, hurt, anger. Anger at Lance, maybe? Yet, he didn’t. He thought being outed would draw some emotion out of him. To be completely honest, it didn’t seem real; those thousands of people finding out he likes men. What was real was his big brother finding out through paparazzi garbage and not Keith himself. Keith hoped Shiro would forgive him. He’d meant to tell him of course, and he never really thought his brother would judge him. Still, there was always that nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him, “he’ll be disappointed in you.” The rock star lifted his head, banging it lightly on the counter. 

“Hey.” Shiro was suddenly there, resting a comforting hand on Keith’s shoulder. “You keep doing that and the counter will have grounds for assault charges.” The younger man groaned, rolling his eyes and lifted his head. Shiro moved to the other side of the bar, to the fridge. He pulled out the milk jug and then went to find a glass.

“You gotta stop making those cheesy jokes, bro. You sound like a dad.” Shiro smiled a little, pulling a glass from the cabinet. “Yo, hit me barkeep,” Keith tapped the counter in front of him. Shiro raised an eyebrow. “Come on, I can take it.” His brother hesitated before giving in, a regretful look on his face. Shiro sat two glasses on the counter in front of Keith. One he filled with milk for himself, the other for Keith. Slowly, Shiro pushed the half glass toward Keith.

“Just use the downstairs bathroom this time, okay.” The rock star locked eyes with his brother, kicking back the milk as if it were a shot of alcohol. Shiro shook his head, taking a sip of his drink. “So...we need to discuss some things…” the man leaned his left arm on the counter. Not receiving a response, he continued, “There are a few ways we could handle this. We could do nothing and wait for it to blow over. Alternatively, we could make a public statement. I would recommend the statement--nip it in the butt and all. What we say in response is completely up to you. If you’re not ready, then I can find a way for it to go away.” Keith blinked up at him, his jaw hanging open. 

“Just like that? You’re going all agent on me? What about my brother, doesn’t he have anything to say? Like, yell at me? Or tell me how shocked he is that his brother is gay? How disappointed he is that he found out this way?” Shiro’s eyebrows furrowed up, frowning a bit.

“Keith I am not disappointed in you. I don’t blame you for going to Lance’s party and getting ‘caught’ on camera. This was completely out of your control. Unfortunately, many celebrities get their privacy invaded. It’s just another hazard of this job. But I am truly sorry it happened to you this way.”

“What about…” Keith whispered, his eyes searching the counter top, “me being gay?” He heard a chuckle come from across the bar. Keith’s eyes jerked up. Shiro full out laughed an amused sparkle in his eye. “What? What’s so funny!” 

“Well, little bro, you never were very good at hiding it.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Keith didn't look his brother in the eye. Shiro raised an eyebrow, continuing,

“You remember that boy from middle school, Zander—that boy you used to bring over all the time? The one Mom and Dad just thought was your ‘best buddy ever’?” Keith’s wide eyes jerked toward him in recognition, blush starting to creep over his cheeks. Shiro grinned, big brother malevolence tingling in the air, “On one particularly quiet day, after school, I was minding my own business, walking to my room when I hear music… and then giggling? Now I say to myself ‘that cannot really be my grumpy little bro.’ Then, I peek into your open door and see the two of you dancing. It was adorable by the way, but didn’t think too much of it--you still being youngsters. That is, until Zander stops, kind of leans in and-”

“Alright! Alright,” Keith slammed his hands on the table, horror written on his face. “I do NOT need to hear my brother retell the story of my first kiss. I was there okay. Jeez, privacy is a thing you know!” The young man folded his arms over his chest, pouting as his face turned bright red. 

“You left the door open. Number one rule, little bro, if you want privacy: closed door means knock and open door means free to view,” Shiro winked, taking another long sip of his milk. A few minutes of silence rang between them. Keith’s mind went through all the moments of his life where he was sure his innuendos or fake study sessions with a guy or two had gone over Shiro’s head. They’d gotten passed Mom and Dad alright… Damn, Zander… with his stupid badass CD player and stupid badass hair with a dyed red stripe in it and stupid flirty comments Keith couldn’t help but swoon over. The only thing that wasn’t ‘badass’ about him was his kissing skills. And of course, the fact that he’d dumped Keith two months into their ‘relationship’ for a new kid with fanfiction green eyes and plaid over shirts. No, you’re over that Keith, move on...He told himself, shaking his head coming back to the present.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Keith breathed in a quiet voice. Shiro set the nearly empty glass on the counter, giving Keith a gentle smile.

“I figured you’d to tell me when you were ready for me to know…” Keith looked up at his brother, admiration in his eyes. He felt his chest filling with emotion; mumbled thanks came from his lips. Then he cleared his throat, looking away. “I do, however, want to know what got you so upset last night…” Shiro’s face became stern, worry in his eyes. 

With a big breath, Keith spilled everything--well leaving out the sensual and embarrassing details, obviously. He told him how Lance had turned out to be really kind and passionate. How they’d bonded in McClain’s secret garden. How they’d thought they’d ‘find a quieter place’ upstairs. And how, Lance had stopped him from giving ‘it’ all up. Keith spoke openly, words spewing from his mouth unable to stop them. He told Shiro how confused and hurt he was. That he lashed out, saying awful things to Lance—he guessed wanting to hurt him back. Shiro stood there, quiet and listened to every word. After Keith finished, with tears pooling lightly in his eyes, Shiro spoke. 

“I don’t know Lance personally, so I can’t offer a solid opinion but I can offer some thoughts…” Shiro stated carefully. Keith nodded eager to hear his theories. “From what I’ve seen of the man himself, he’s obnoxious at times, very flirtatious, and can be argumentative. However, I also did a little reconnaissance at his party; I talked around with some of his closer friends-Pidge the DJ and a guy named Hunk? I even spoke a bit with Allura, and they all agreed on the previous points. But, also brought up a great many hardships he’s faced. The boy has worked for his place here. He’s gotten to where he is financially and career wise almost all on his own. The guy has his moments. I believe deep down, maybe very deep down, he’s a good man. All this is to say, I don’t think he’d reject you for being inexperienced…”

“What for, then?” Keith grumbled, resting his head in his hands.

“Maybe there is some situation we’re not aware of? Perhaps he got nervous or maybe he’s even inexperienced as well?” 

“Why wouldn’t he just say that, though? I wouldn’t have pushed him-” Shiro held up a hand. 

“You know how you feel in crowded rooms or when you have to talk to people you don’t know very well? You feel as if you can’t find the right way to say things, they always come out different than you intended or sometimes you can’t even say them at all?” Keith nodded slowly, not sure where his brother was going with this. “Sometimes other people feel the same way. Lance could have just mixed up his words or not said what he was really feeling because he got overwhelmed.” 

“Oh...I didn’t think about that.” 

“Who knows,” Shiro took the last gulp of his milk, “he could have even felt unworthy.” 

“What?” Keith’s face screwed up, “What does that mean?” Shiro glanced down, taking the empty glasses and rinsing them in the sink, before putting them in the dishwasher. 

“In my experience, people that put up a front of selfishness and overconfidence tend to be the least confident. They likely don’t put any value in themselves as people. It could be that Lance felt he wasn’t good enough for you to… give yourself to. Also, you are kind of intimidating, little bro. Especially when you get all possessive.” 

“I do not get-” Keith stopped himself, remembering the way he’d marked up Lance’s skin. At the time, he’d gotten off on how people would see them later, knowing someone had had Lance completely. He gulped, scrubbing a hand down his face. This was neither the time nor the place to get aroused by Lance McClain. “So...what do I do?” Shiro gave a thoughtful sigh. 

“Well, what is your head telling you to do? What do you feel?”

“...That I should apologize to him?” Shiro smiled, nodding. “I should send him flowers! Right? That’s what people do… To say they’re sorry?” Shiro opened his mouth to say something, but stopped his lips resting in a knowing smile. 

“Yeah, bro, that’s what they do.” Keith grinned, excited now, but instead of doing anything, he just stared at his brother. “What?” Shiro squinted his eyes. 

“Well I can’t exactly go out to a flower shop today!” Shiro shrugged.

“So wait until tomorrow?” He offered a little scared of where this was going.

“I can’t do that! Lance has to know as soon as possible! He deserves that,” Keith pleaded, putting on the best baby-brother-puppy-dog-eyes he could muster, “plllleaasseee! If I don’t do send them today he’ll hate me forever!” Shiro groaned, rolling his eyes. 

“Fine!”

“Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Keith jumped from his seat, almost tempted to give Shiro a hug.

“But…” the rock star froze, wincing. “You have to tell Mom and Dad who really broke grandma’s teapot last Christmas.” 

“What? Come on that was-” Shiro raised an eyebrow, a deadly look in his eye. “Fine,” Keith grumbled, “You never let that one go.”

“Nope. Now, go shower and get your stuff together, be ready to go to the recording studio at ten hundred hours. In the meantime, I’ll go get your stupid flowers,” Shiro stuck out his tongue in a childish gesture. Keith grinned, weight he’d been carrying on his shoulders for years, finally lifted from him. Shiro didn’t care who Keith loved. He was still his annoying little brother, who always got away with everything—mostly with Shiro’s help. That's just the way they liked it and that’s the way it was going to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm homesick for Earth, but lovesick for you, beautiful ;) {in honor of Lance's birthday} Comment and hit that Kudos! ♥
> 
>  
> 
> All of these season 3 teasers and trailers have me so shook! I'm already a huge fan of Lotor (that voice, damn), but I'm so scared for the safety of our beloved paladins. ☹


	6. The Vines That Bind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Shiro! Shouldn't you be taking notes or something?" Keith glared at his older brother, positive he wouldn't remember all of what he said. 
> 
> "Tell me again why you can't just send him a regular apology," Shiro huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 
> 
> "It has to have a personal touch, or it doesn't mean anything," the dark haired emo growled. Altough at the moment, Keith was acting less like an emo rockstar and more like a love struck 12 year old sending their first Valentine's card. "You have to get this exactly right." 
> 
> "Geez just text me the instructions, then," Shiro sighed in defeat. Who knew that when it came to wooing the boys, his little brother was so high maintenance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter notes:  
> This is a side ship chapter for Shatt/Miro. Let me know if y'all would like to see more full chapters of this, if not it'll just be in the background. Continuation of Klance will be updated soon. 
> 
> Definition:  
> Dianthus caryophyllus - scientific name for carnations, the flower

Shiro stretched his left arm above his head, rolling his shoulders as he stepped out of the front door. He sucked in a breath of air, making himself ignore the tinge of chemical taste still there. It was a little late for his usual morning run, but after the events of this morning he needed the stress relief. Besides, he had an errand to run and might as well hit two birds with one stone. Typing in a search for flower shops he picked one a couple miles away. After slipping his phone into his jogging pants’ pocket, Shiro put in his earbuds. 

Music with a steady drum beat and rippling guitar number flowed into his ears. A small smile rested on his face as the agent relaxed in a steady pace--jogging out of his driveway and onto their street. The heat of June was lessened today with a light breeze. Still the sun shone brightly down from the East side of the sky, already warming Shiro’s skin. His heart started to pick up the pace, matching the pounding of his feet on the concrete. The zing of exercise sent his body tingling. Every once and awhile he’d vere or turn according to the online map’s audible directions. 

Twenty-five minutes had passed by the time he reached the store. Above the place hung a green and orange painted sign with the name “Extra-Terrestrial Flora” scrawled on it. Kind of a mouth full; but quirky. Shiro respected that. He stepped into the shop, the door jingling with the beginnings of the Star Wars theme. Glancing up, he saw a computerized speaker attached to the door. He sent the machine an impressed smirk before turning back around. Humidity weighed down the air and the scent of plants and soil saturated the room. Flowers were everywhere. They lined the shops short aisles on the each side of the room, colors were separated in slanted barrels, and some hung from the ceiling. At the back of the store was a sun lit area with a glass ceiling, a pair of glass sliding doors separating it from the rest of place. 

In the midst of the jungle of flowers--in the center of the room--sat a circular desk. All the way around the countertop, display bouquets were placed in even intervals in a range of sizes. Shiro stepped up to it, pulling out his earbuds and letting them dangle over his shoulder. He leaned close to the counter, peeking over. The floor there was littered with bits of leaves, stalks, and tools. A figure with wild, shoulder length ginger hair tied back in a short ponytail, leant over something. They wore an orange lined collared vest over a black t-shirt with distressed jeans rolled fashionably at the ankles. They had high top shoes with what looked like a hand painted galaxy pattern on them. 

“Excuse me,” Shiro cued politely. 

“Give...me… a tick,” the person voiced in between grunts of effort, obviously tinkering with something. A satisfying click sounded, “HA! Finally got ya!” The young man jutted up suddenly from the behind the desk, a large metal spherical object in his hands. He quickly set it on the counter, not even looking at Shiro. “Watch this!” He touched the top of the metal sphere and watched head in his hands, looking at the object with pride twinkling in his eyes. At the man’s touch, the sphere hissed a breath and slowly metal slits opened up, as if it were blooming. The top slits twirled and shaped to form into a shining silver carnation, while the bottom formed the “pot” to the plant. 

“Whoa!” Shiro gasped leaning down to gaze closer at the invention. Dim orange lights glittered in the gaps between the pieces, adding to the aesthetic. “It’s beautiful.” 

“Yeah…” The younger man behind the counter sighed, still bent over admiring his creation. Finally he looked up, through large round experimentation type goggles, now eye to eye with the bent over customer. His amber eyes widened taking in all of Shiro’s features at once. His hair was dark, buzzed on the sides with a white fringe coming down in the center of his forehead. The man’s skin was glistening and flush with exercise, his attire obviously suggesting he’d been running. “Damn,” the younger man gasped, straightening up right away in realization. He swiftly pushed his big round goggles up on his forehead. 

Shiro stood as well holding back a laugh at the sight before him. It looked as if a potted plant had blown up in the man’s face. Round rings of soil formed in the shape of his goggles around wide amber eyes. Those eyes shined up at him, light freckles visible under the dirt. His face was soft, with a sharp pixie type nose. There was a pale scar on the left side of his face, running from his jawline to his cheekbone. Shiro had to admit there was a certain attractiveness about this zany shopkeeper in his quirky little shop. The man’s whole body was relaxed, completely comfortable in this place. Shiro’s chocolate brown eyes glanced down now able see the front of the man’s shirt, it read, “I’m Evil, but the fun kind of Evil”. 

“Hi Evil, I’m Shiro,” he snickered, offering his left hand. The other man blinked, glancing down at his shirt before understanding. Looking back up, he raised an eyebrow and smirked. 

“My friends call me, Matt,” the young man chuckled, shaking Shiro’s hand. “Now that you’ve humored me with-” he gestured to the metal flower, “what can I do for you?”

“Besides making me one of those cool metal flowers?” Pink dusted Matt’s cheeks and he glanced away with a nervous smile. 

“Th-they’re still a work in progress. That’s just a prototype.”

“That’s incredible for a prototype. You have a real talent.” Thank you was all Matt could think to say, the blush having yet to leave his face. “What I originally came for was a bouquet, though.” Matt grinned, back straightening and confidence returning to his shoulders. 

“That I can help you with! Did you have anything specific in mind?” 

“Well, my brother’s got himself in kind of a jam,” Shiro dug his phone out of his pocket, pulling up the notes Keith gave him before he left. “He’d like to send someone some flowers as an apology. Specifically, I quote him here, ‘I’m sorry I called you an asshole, you’re actually really nice.’” Matt’s eyebrows shot up and a crooked smile put dimples on his cheeks. 

“Can’t say I’ve heard that one before. Is this a coworker of his?” 

“Mmm,” the older brother gears in Shiro’s head were turning, considering what to say. Of course, Lance was a coworker of Keith’s. However, he knew how much Keith cared about the Cuban singer. It wouldn’t hurt to give him a little helpful push, would it? “There’s something more between them, I believe. But they’re both very stubborn and a little weary.”

“So you’d like me to drop a hint or two, then?” 

“You’re the professional here. I’ll let you decide what’s best for this situation,” Shiro winked. The shop keeper nodded in mutual understanding, the dimpled grin returning to his face. He grabbed a clipboard from below the counter--that looked to have blank order forms--and pulled a pen magically from behind his ear. Matt then proceeded to hop up and over the counter to Shiro’s side. 

“Have you heard the term Floriography, Shiro?” The shorter asked as he waved Shiro to follow him. 

“It’s something to do with the meaning behind flowers, right? Truthfully, I don’t know much about it.” He answered as he fell into a lazy step with Matt. The shopkeeper lead him down a row of flowers, his eyes keenly searching the barrels. 

“That’s the base of it, yes. Floriography uses flowers to express a message that we can’t find our own words for. Every flower conveys a special meaning to the person receiving it. For example,” Matt pulled out a white small petaled flower. “White violet flowers ask the receiver to take a chance on happiness,” he held the flower up to Shiro, gaze flicking between it and him. With a small smile, Matt laid the flower on his clipboard that was held close to his chest. Walking a bit further, on the other side of the aisle Matt picked up another flower. It had wavy petals bordered with bright purple while the inner edges sunk into a deep indigo. “Purple Gloxinia generally mean--” Matt faltered redness pulling in his cheeks, not meeting Shiro in the eyes. In a quieter voice he finished, “shows love or affection upon first introduction.” 

“Do you...believe in that?” Shiro prompted, curious. 

“Huh?” Matt asked, placing the gloxinia with the violet on the clipboard. 

“Do you put any faith in love at first ’introduction’?” Matt paused and pursed his lips for a moment. 

“I think you can find someone attractive at first sight,” as he spoke they continued to wander up and down the aisles. A few times he picked up a flower studying it before putting it back. “Affection can grow in a short amount of time as well. But love is a different story. It takes time,” Matt leaned into a bunch of bright pink colored plants, taking in the scent. “That deep of an emotion doesn’t bloom overnight. It takes work--knowing when to water it and how much for instance, and demands a lot of your attention before you see any result. It comes with a lot of doubt and sometimes more than a little frustration.” 

“But it’s worth all of it, isn’t it?” A soft smile came to Shiro’s lips as he admired the man before him. One he’d just met, but was expressing so many ideals that were deeply ingrained in Shiro himself. “The flowers, I mean,” Shiro corrected, though the underlying meaning was still there between them. It was shared silently like a message through their expressions. They weren’t talking about flowers anymore.

“To see the product of so much energy turn into something as beautiful as this,” Matt waved a hand toward the ranges of flowers on the aisle, “hell yes it’s worth it.” The two stood silence drawing between them, their eyes locked holding an unreadable emotion. As the time lengthened, Shiro felt his heart beat a little faster in his chest and a flush began to crawl up his neck. He let out a cough, breaking eye contact. Matt looked away too, busying himself with taking a few different colored flowers from barrels and putting them with the others on his clipboard. “So,” Matt cleared his throat, turning back toward the desk again, “You’d like this bouquet delivered, correct?”

“Uh-Yes, as soon as possible,” Shiro nodded, following close behind. Matt carefully placed six different colored and type of flowers on the counter. He leaned over a bit on his elbows scribbling down some notes, filling in the form. The taller man tried not to focus on the way Matt stuck his tongue out in thought or the way he swayed a little back and forth--having an overabundance of energy. Everything about this flower shopkeeper was sweet and endearing. Shiro physically shook his head, now was not the time. He was on a mission. 

“Shiro?” 

“Hmm?” The shorter raised an eyebrow likely having tried to get Shiro’s attention before. 

“The address?” 

“Oh right!” Shiro listed off the address, Matt following it closely with the sound of pen scratching on paper. After finishing, Matt stopped glancing back at Shiro with a curious expression. 

“Lance McClain, huh?” 

“How did-” 

“I’ve got an ongoing project over there. And he’s an entertaining friend to have,” Matt grinned, leaning back on the counter. Shiro nodded, from the things he’d seen and heard he imaged Lance would be a fun guy to have around. Good thing too, because the way Keith was talking, Shiro thought he’d being seeing a lot more of the Cuban. “Does your brother have any other message he’d like to send?” Shiro nodded, deciding to just hand over his phone with the text open from Keith about the flowers. “Mulletbrained jackass?” Matt snickered shaking his head at the words in the text, still writing it down. After checking over the form, matching it with the notes, he handed back the phone. 

“How much do I owe you?” Shiro cued. Matt pursed his lips glancing at the form.

“$34.99,” Matt answered before hopping back over the desk. He disappeared bending low behind the counter, while Shiro pulled out his wallet and got out his credit card. Keith would most definitely owe him for this. Matt appeared again, with a set of stem clippers in one hand and smartphone in the other. He set the clippers down, attaching a small box to his phone and taking the card. Quickly he swiped it and applied the charge, then had Shiro sign the electronic recipe. It was messy and a little embarrassing. Even after four years, Shiro still hadn’t gotten fully used to writing left handed. “Type in your email, and I’ll send an electronic receipt,” Matt slide the phone back to Shiro, not even batting an eye at the signature. As the taller man did this, Matt clipped away at stems of the white violet and purple gloxinia. 

“Here you go,” Shiro spoke up, awaking Matt from his work. The shopkeeper glanced at it briefly before putting it back in his jeans pocket. “Thank you for your help--” Shiro started to turn away, a little awkwardly 

“Oh hold on,” Matt asked urgently, hurrying his shaping of the stems in his hands. When he finished, that signature dimpled smile brightened his face. The shortened stems curved down, twisting around each other so the white and purple flower were intertwined together. Matt beckoned Shiro closer to the counter, pink dusting his cheeks. After approaching, the shopkeeper stood up on his tiptoes and tucked the flowers behind Shio’s ear so the stems hooked them in place. “Those are for you, they... complement you really well,” Matt couldn’t look the taller in the eye, his face getting redder by the minute. Shiro blinked, a matching blush forming on his own cheeks. His mouth gaped open unable to form a coherent thank you. 

“And,” Matt grabbed a business card from the holder on the counter. He wrote a series of numbers on the back, “If you ever want to know about getting one of my metal Dianthus caryophyllus, or if you just want to talk some time…” He held out the card to Shiro. It took a good few seconds to compose himself enough to accepted the card. A happy smirk curled his lips. 

“Be careful. I might just take you up on that.” 

“I’m counting on it,” Matt leaned on the counter, returning the smirk and flirty tone back at him. Sending the shopkeeper a wave, Shiro exited the shop. Subconsciously his fingers ghosted over the flowers tucked close to his ear, an unbelieving grin coming to his face. 

“What even just happened?” He asked no one in particular as he put his earbuds back in. While the music thrummed in his mind once again, he chuckled and started toward home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If a flower grows every time I think of you, I'd have a field of them." ;) Comment and hit that Kudos ❤ 
> 
> That was the Shatt introduction, fun right? The jobs already fit so, I finally got to write a flower shop AU for these two. And I think it fit decently with where their relationship can go from here. Also, is everyone else as excited as I am for Matt's possible appearance in s4?!?! That boy is great!


	7. Safe & Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bakku Studios presents "Safe & Warm Morning Show" with your host Plaxum Cresswell. Today we welcome two very special guest from the music biz. The community is absolutely swimming with excitement about this new duo. Tune in until the very end for a surprise treat from one of our guests!  
> **Filmed in front of a live studio audience**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes:  
> Lance's backstory continues to thicken up. And last we left off, Keith was dealing with the aftermath of Lance's LGBTQ party. What will Keith's response be under a pressured interview?

“Welcome everyone! Thank you for joining us on this lovely Monday morning, here at Bakku studios. I’m Plaxum Cresswell, you’re gracious host,” the woman smiled out at television audience. Keith stared at screen intently, searching the women's features. She was rather tall, sitting with a presence you could feel through the screen. Her appearance was very beautiful; perfectly proportioned face, almost luminescent skin, deep blue and raven colored hair coming in waves over her shoulder. Keith understood why her morning show was the top rated. She captivated her audience with strength, beauty, and emotional softness. “I’m here with our first guest, a hot new indie rocker with a little Cuban spice: Lance McClain!”

The live studio audience cheered and clapped as the young man—sitting on the long couch opposite Plaxum—waved and blew kisses to them. Keith gulped his hands gripping at the ends of his leather jacket. His eyes stayed glued to the Cuban, taking in every moment, every glance toward the camera. McClain looked different today, his eyes seemed to be bluer, his smile shone brighter, every move or comment made Keith’s heart give a stutter. Keith shook himself out of his thoughts, realizing he’d missed the beginning of the interview already. “Pay attention,” Keith grumbled low to himself, tuning back into the conversation. 

“Now, Lance, onto a very serious topic, there have been many rumors going around about a lion...in your basement? Supposedly, a few people at your last party swore to have heard a big cat growling behind a closed door.” Plaxum smiled as she read the question from her note cards. The Cuban let out a musical laugh. 

“Not unless you count, Blue. She may be a lion at heart but she’s only as big as my two hands right now. I recently adopted her from the shelter on Pontius Ave. She’s a Russian blue, and she’s gorgeous!” Lance quickly pulled out his phone, showing a picture of wide eyed, grey blue haired kitten who stared at the photographer with a quizzical look. There was a resounding “aww” through the crowd. He took another look with a goofy grin on his face, before putting his phone away. 

“She’s adorable,” Plaxum replied, “I hope we’ll be seeing more pictures of her on your Instagram soon!”

“Of course! I have to show off my little lady.” Lance winked toward the crowd and cameras, nearly causing a few people in the live audience to swoon. 

“You are a big flirt, Lance McClain,” Plaxum let out a giggled, her cheeks reddening a bit. She flipped through her cards quickly trying to find the next topic. 

“What can I say, Plaxum. I’ve got so much love to give,” Lance leaned back on the couch, crossing his legs. She raised an eyebrow, a light seeming to click on in her mind.

“Since the topic of love has come up, a recent online poll ranked you as one of the most attractive people in the music business right now. Many of us have been wondering: do you have anyone special in your life?” At this remark, Keith’s shoulders tensed, jaw clenching. He didn’t know what to expect, or if he should expect anything really. It was one night at Lance’s party; and it had ended badly. He also hadn’t heard any sort of reply to the flowers he’d had sent. Keith inhaled, his heart thudding again. No… he shouldn’t expect anything. Nothing was there between them. At least, nothing on Lance’s side, Keith was sure. 

“I have plenty of special people in my life…” Lance sat up again, noticeably dodging the question. 

“Let me rephrase,” Plaxum pressed, “Do you have any romantic relationships you’re currently pursuing?” Lance opened his mouth, but closed it right away. He let out a breathy chuckle, running his fingers through his hair. 

“S-sorry, nothing concrete to report yet. Though there is someone I’ve taken to recently,” his lips quirked up, his eyes looking off into some distant thought. 

“Oooh, won’t you share some juicy details with us? A name maybe...” Blinking, Lance was suddenly back in the moment. 

“Ah nope,” Lance shrugged, smiling in sympathy. “It’s… complicated but they’re really amazing and stubborn and gorgeous and irritating all at the same time!” Lance let out a big breath, “…I hope it turns into something—but I don’t really know,” running his fingers through his hair again, finally able to stop his rambles. Keith bit his lip, pulse racing. No way… Lance is not talking about him.  
There must be someone else then. Maybe one of those many people around Lance at his party? The ones stopping him, and smiling, maybe even flirting? Pain ticked in Keith's chest at the thought.

“My my,” Plaxum sat back a little, “I think you’ve got yourself an old school crush, Lance.” Keith swore that Lance’s face colored a bit red as he laughed her comment away. 

“Alright, Plaxum, you got any other questions for me?” The Cuban pressed, trying to pull the conversation away from his love life. She gave him a knowing look, but let it go. Flipping through her cards, she smiled. 

“Well lucky for you, Lance, I think it’s about time to bring on our second guest! Don’t you think everyone?” The crowd’s applauses was muffled in Keith’s ears. Suddenly he really did not know if he could do this. Not with that interviewer batting her eyelashes at Lance, and him being his normal flirty self. Not to mention the whole crowd and TV viewers watching. 

“Give a warm welcome to Keith Kogane,” Plaxum smiled waving to the side of the stage. The rock star gave Shiro a brief look. They’d both stayed backstage for the first half of the show, waiting for him to go on. His brother gave his shoulder a little nudge, a whispered ‘you can do this’ causing Keith to straighten up. He took a breath before going around to the front, and steadily walking into frame. Clapping and squeals roared from the live audience. The rock star waved, sporting a slight blush and awkward smile as he reached the couch. He sat on the opposite end, as far away from Lance as he could get. “Keith, thank you so much for joining us today, we’re so glad you’re here.” Keith nodded curtly to her as he wiped his sweaty palms across his jeans, adjusting his sitting position at the same time. 

“Let’s just dive right in shall we, and get straight to the big talk around town! Keith everyone is talking about your attendance at Lance’s birthday party this past Friday. As most of us already know, Lance—as an open Bisexual—takes great joy and confidence in celebrating his birthday during LGBTQ pride month. All his previous parties have reflected this. You were seen leaving the party wearing LGBT gear, care to comment on that?” Keith’s gut twisted, getting to the hard questions already. He’d hoped they’d start this interview with easier questions to answer; like what his favorite color was. He took in a shaking breath, glancing over to Shiro who was now behind the closest camera operator. His older brother shot him a reassuring smile. 

“Well I-I admire,” Keith began looking back to Plaxum, “what McClain does at his parties. It gives people the opportunity to be open with a larger group of people, and to feel safe while doing so… I personally s-support it because I myself...am gay.” The rock star had paled from the effort, shaking with the emotional drain it had taken to come out. 

“That was very brave of you, Keith. Thank you for sharing with us,” Plaxum smiled and the audience gave a round of applause. As they quieted, the interviewer continued, “I know a lot of ladies who will be disappointed to hear this news.” She winked at the camera and audience, a few resounding agreements came from the crowd. A smile touched his lips, a blush dusting his cheeks once more. 

“S-sorry girls,” he rubbed the back on his neck, “I still love you all!” He grinned, happiness lifting his nerves for a moment as he looked to the crowd and camera. 

“Well if that look doesn’t make a few girls and boys swoon, I don’t know what would,” Plaxum laughed along with the audience. “Now that we’re back on relationships, any special boys in your life, Keith?” The rockstar let out an internal sigh of relief, now to the question he was expecting. Yet for some reason, he hesitated, glancing at Lance. Of course he knew McClain was there, but he had yet to really take in the other man’s deep blue eyes. They sparkled, as if eagerly awaiting the rockstar’s every word. 

“Uh-ahem. No, not yet,” Keith shook his head, “But if Ryan Reynolds ever decided to swing my way; give me a call.” Keith put on his best smirk, sending the crowd into fits of giggles and squeals. 

“I’ll tell him you said that,” Plaxum laughed, flipping the cards in her lap. She angled toward Lance once more. “By now all of us should have seen this little number on the front of Voltron magazine,” she held up a copy of the magazine to the camera. Both music artists were back-to-back, expressions brooding, fierce, and almost inhumanly attractive. “Besides the both of you looking downright HOT, the cover advertises a piece on your respective fans’ rivalry. Lance, how do your fans rivalry with ‘Koganintes’ affect yours and Keith’s relationship? Obviously you like him well enough to invite him to your birthday party…” 

“Yes, I like him well enough for that. If I’m completely honest,” Lance smirked while he spoke, sending a few ladies in the audience squealing. “Kogane and I have a frenemy type relationship, at the moment. We have a mutual respect for each other. Although we’re both very competitive,” Lance leaned toward Keith and whispered, “I'm gonna take this gruñón chiquito down a few notches.” ((grumpy little boy)) The Cuban’s elbow dug into Keith’s ribs. The rockstar didn't know what Lance had called him, but he certainly did not like the tone. He growled leaning in closer to Lance, getting into his space as heat erupting in his chest. Irritation flowed freely between them. 

“In your dreams McClain,” Keith shot back a confident smile tugging his lips. 

“Pfft as if I’d dream of you,” Lance scoffed, but unable to meet the rock star’s eyes, “Your mullet is still stupid.” 

“I'm wounded,” Keith deadpanned, “I don't know how I'll recover.”

“You won't, douche-ogane,” Lance crossed his arms, sticking his nose in the air.

“I bet your grandma has better comebacks than you.”

“Don't bring mi abuela into this, pequeño mierda,” ((little shit)) Keith pushed in further, nearly touching the other’s forehead with his own. “Te sueno la cara,” ((I will punch you in the face)) the Cuban snarled in a smaller voice. Their eyes soon locked together, deep blue meeting violet. They held the gaze for a few moments, unaware of the silence that enveloped the studio. Keith held his breath, not sure of the emotions squirming in his stomach. Lance seemed to be suffering with the same, a light pink color tinting his cheeks; not daring to blink. 

“Whew, is it getting hot in here or is it just me,” the interviewer chuckled, piercing through the trance of the room. The two abruptly straightened away from each other, matching blushes on their faces. Keith notice how close he’d gotten to Lance and inched farther down the couch; getting space between them. “Moving right along,” Plaxum eyed the pair suspiciously, changing her cards over once again. “Lance you mentioned a mutual respect of each other. I assume that carries over to your music,” she gestured to the two of them, “Do you have a favorite of Keith’s songs perhaps? Or maybe some critiques?” Lance’s face lit up in a mischievous grin. This will be good… Keith rolled his eyes preparing for an onslaught of negative comments. 

“Just between you and me, don’t tell him this,” Lance stage whispered, scooting to the edge of the couch to get closer to Plaxum.

“Oh yes, of course,” she giggled, winking to the audience.

“I do actually enjoy his music and I do happen to have a favorite song,” Lance sat back eyes twinkling with amusement, though he didn’t dare look at Keith. 

“Oooh pray tell us!” Plaxum grinned, clapping excitedly with the rest of the fans in the crowd. 

“As cliche as it might be, ‘When Skies Falls Apart’ will always hold a special place en mi corazón,” ((in my heart)) Lance patted his chest over his heart. A few oohs and ahs were erupted from the live audience. Keith’s eyes squinted, where was McClain going with this...

“For those of you watching that don’t know, ‘When Skies Falls Apart’ was Keith’s first hit single released in 2012,” the interviewer stated to the crowd. “Care to explain your choice, Lance? It was certainly a big deal for Keith, but why does it touch you?”

“As some of you may know 2012 is the year I first immigrated to the states. I came with my older sister, leaving the rest of mi—very large—familia back in Cuba. Starting a music career and starting a life in a whole new country was very difficult to say the least. On one particularly bad day, I had just gotten rejected from another recording studio. I was completely ready to pack up and go back to Cuba, when that song came on,” Lance’s smile seemed to fade into concentration. 

He had the whole studio spellbound by his retelling; his eyes looked far away as he recalled the day. “Not only were the vocals freaking out of this world, but the flow of the lyrics… you get swept away into the story. Most people I think take the song’s lyrics by their literal meaning, considering the whole ‘apocalypse’, Mayan calendar scare that happened in 2012. Especially after that killer music video was released,” he eyed Keith with a smirk. Keith only stared, completely taken aback by the words spewing from Lance’s lips.

“But to me, it means something completely different. When the song begins it creates a picture of the world going to ruin and the planet cracking and falling away, I don’t feel it means the actually planet Earth. I relate it to mean that your existence, everything you knew, was shattering around you—like mine was at that time in my life. Then, what hit me even harder was when it talks about picking up the pieces that are left and moving on to the next planet. Like,” Lance took a breath struggling to put his feelings into words, “Like I could move on too. I could face the next chapter in my life, in America; whether it turned out good or bad, it was going to be the experience that mattered afterward.”

“Very, very well put Lance,” Plaxum offered an applause, followed by the audience. As the roar of clapping continued, Keith could only stare at the young man before him. He got it... Lance McClain had been the first one that actually understood that song for what it was meant to be. Something in Keith clicked as feelings and emotions flooded his veins. What just happened, he wasn’t sure, it was something akin to what he’d felt when they’d kissed. Yet, somehow it felt deeper, bigger, and a whole hell of a lot more terrifying. 

The sounds soon died away and the interviewer continued with her questions. “Now that we’ve heard from Lance; Keith, do you have any thoughts you’d like to share on Lance’s songs or style?” The question quickly snapped the rockstar out of the warm and fuzzy feeling that had been blanketing him. His stomach dropped, realizing he couldn’t match an answer as beautiful as Lance’s was. Honestly, Keith's mind was so blank he couldn't even bullshit something resembling an answer. Keith gulped, throat suddenly dry. He fiddled with his fingers, drying his clammy hands again on his jeans. The entire audience waited with baited breath. 

“W-well see I really… um,” he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing his neck. “You see, his genre…isn’t exactly—I don’t gravitate toward his type of music… so I haven’t really heard much of him.” It was as if someone had suddenly let go of a balloon full of air, the tension sizzled away to a disappointed crowd. Keith frowned, feeling the negative energy drain his previous buzz. 

“O-oh… I see.” Plaxum’s mind seemed to falter for a moment, as if not expecting that answer. However she quickly recovered, “Then I suppose, you’ll get your chance today!” She smiled, looking toward the audience now, “Lance—with our band to assist him—has agreed to play a little end of show music for us after these messages!” The crowd cheered in excitement and the camera turned away from the three on stage. Plaxum stood from her chair as a tech person scurried up to ask her a few questions. Lance stood next, stretching his arms over his head. Keith tried not to stare at the tanned bit of skin that peeked from Lance’s raised shirt. The Cuban started to walk toward the music stage when a hand grabbed his wrist. 

“Hey…” Keith spoke quietly, not looking McClain in the eye, “my song… d-did you really…” 

“Mean what I said?” Lance finished for him. His face sobered, eyes dulling with seriousness he whispered, “Every word, Keith.” 

“Thank you…Lance,” Keith breathed, letting go of the man. The Cuban didn’t respond, turning away and shuffling to his place on the music floor; a level down from the stage. Keith’s gaze stayed glued to him as he got ready. A tech assistant ran up to Lance, handing him his guitar. Though Keith had limited knowledge of foreign musical instruments, if he were to guess he’d say Lance was using a Cuban Tres six stringed guitar. The curves of the hand stained wood were not too unlike a classic guitar, though a bit smaller and elongated. It was truly a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. McClain handled it as if cradling a child, fondness in his eyes. With a graceful movement, he donned the guitar, and the strap pulled tight on Lance’s muscled shoulder. 

Keith sucked in a breath, taking in the sight. His eyes studied the strap carefully, as if one blink and it would disappear. Keith had mostly forgot about the present he’d left at the birthday party—his mind being otherwise occupied. He’d expected it to be opened, yes. But the fact that Lance had actually chosen to wear it sent Keith’s heart fluttering in his chest. The rockstar had originally planned to only bring a card to the birthday party, considering the two barely knew each other. But in passing a certain antique store, he saw that guitar strap in the window and took a chance. It was three different shades of teal, aqua, and deep blue. It looked as if the lines of color were painted on with an oil brush. Light colors mixed with the dark, flowing into each other like ocean waves. Lance had seemed to wear a lot of blue, and Keith had hoped it’d be appropriate. It turned out that it must have been, because there it was hugging the guitar against Lance’s torso. 

“We’re on in 5...4...3,” the camera director began the countdown, calling Keith from his daze. The band readied their instruments, and last minute microphones were added, while the director finished his count with silent fingers. 

“Welcome back everyone! I’m sitting here with Keith Kogane, getting ready to listen to Lance McClain play some music for us,” the audience cheered once again at Plaxum’s announcement. “Are you ready, Lance?” The camera swirled to meet a smiling Lance and prepared band. 

“Always! This one is for all the pretty ladies, gents, and nonbinary amigos out there,” McClain winked into the camera putting on a heart-stopping grin. “And Keith…” Lance turned toward the now flustered young man on the couch, “better hold on to something, bonco. You’re about to be blown away.” ((close friend/attractive man)) The Cuban chuckled at the hand that came up to shield Keith’s reddening cheeks. Soon the studio filled with the strumming sounds of the Cuban guitar, hand drums, and percussion shakers. Then Lance opened his mouth and a waterfall of Spanish lyrics poured from him. 

Keith’s breath hitched, eyes wide. The Cuban’s vocal notes played in the air, twirling until they settled, warmly in Keith’s ears. After singing the first verse in Spanish, he switched to English, not missing a beat. The rockstar sat in his chair mesmerized by the effect of Lance’s voice. He suddenly could care less what the lyrics meant and listened solely to the Cuban’s angelic voice. Warm emotions surged in his chest. Keith blocked out the wild squeals coming from the audience and the beat of the instruments, everything else in the entire world seemed to fade except for that one voice. Something was happening to Keith. He was going crazy right? A person can’t just suddenly feel this type of emotion. He could swear it felt like his whole body was falling a million miles an hour, but he was actually happy about it. He was overjoyed just falling, listening to the accented voice echoing from a few yards away. 

The song ended too soon, though at the same time not soon enough for Keith’s nerves. Now that the singing had stopped Keith gulped air, chest heaving to catch his breath. He hadn’t realized he’d stopped breathing at some point. His whole body shook slightly, exhausted from the overwhelming emotions. Somehow, a smile pulled at the corner of his lips. 

“So, Keith, tell us what you think?” Plaxum asked pointedly. Keith’s smile grew into a smirk, and he leaned in to fake whisper. 

“Don’t tell him this, but I think I may have some competition.” Plaxum smiled, and nodded in acknowledgment before turning back to the cameras. 

“Before we go, I’d like to thank you and our guests, Keith Kogane and Lance McClain, for joining us today,” the crowd hollered and applauded. “And Lance, we’re all looking forward to that new single coming out in two weeks; especially me,” Plaxum grinned flirtatiously. 

“I’ll be sure to send you the first copy,” Lance shot back with a finger gun and his signature grin. 

“And that’s our show folks,” Plaxum chimed, “let the rest of your day be safe and warm!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Is your name Ariel? Because I think we were mermaid for each other." ;) Comment and hit that Kudos ♥
> 
> Apologies for the late update. I had a busy weekend and had to entertain some company. But I'm back and I refuse to think about classes starting up again.


	8. A Make Up Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes:   
>  The song mentioned is written and titled by myself. The lyrics are original. Songwriting is not my strong suit but Lance had a single to put out. So, I hope you enjoy!

Around 10am Wednesday morning, Keith and his band were gearing up in a foam walled room at Paladin Records. Shiro and a few producers were sitting in a booth in front of them, listening intently to the notes flowing through the microphones. They were fifteen minutes into recording some instrumental work when Keith’s eyes caught movement in the booth. His brother had turned to the side, a phone pressed to his ear. The rock star’s hand fumbled his last cord as Shiro threw him a mischievous looking glance. After whispering something to the producers, he walked out of the booth. 

“Take five guys,” they heard from one of the tech people over the speakers. 

“What we just started!” Keith frowned, looking toward the recording room’s opening door. Shiro slipped inside, heading straight for Keith with a smile touching his lips. “Shiro what the hell is this about? It was going great!” 

“Patience, little bro,” Shiro gave the phone in his hand a wave, “Your boyfriend worked pretty hard to get in touch with you, won’t you give him at least five minutes?” Snickers hissed behind Keith, from his band members. He shot a glare over his shoulder stopping them abruptly. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Keith growled, yanking off his electric guitar and setting it down. The rock star stomped over, and then snatched the phone from his brother’s hand. He beelined straight for the hallway to get a little more privacy. “Hello,” Keith said in a much softer voice. He heard laughter erupt again as the door shut behind him. 

“Keith!” Lance shouted in a relieved voice over the phone, “Hi!” 

“Hey Lance,” the rock star leaned against the wall behind him, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“I’m so glad I finally reached you! You are one hard guy to track down,” even over the phone, his voice told Keith he was smiling. Keith gave a small laugh; although he really didn’t know what was funny. He couldn’t help the giddiness building in his chest.

“You could have just called me.” 

“You...never gave me your number,” Lance said in a quieter, innocent voice. 

“Oh,” the rock star covered his face with his free hand, as if that shielded him from the embarrassment flooding his face. 

“But Allura had Shiro’s number and my phone was dead anyway, so I used her phone to call Shiro and then Shiro gave his phone to you, and now we’re talking! It all worked out! No big deal,” Lance told triumphantly. Keith shook his head. He gave the Cuban points for persistence at least. 

“Jumping through that many hoops, whatever it is you wanted to say must be important…” Keith pushed, biting his lip. Butterflies suddenly fluttering unrelentingly in his stomach. 

“Oh right…” Lance paused clearing his throat, looking for the courage that had suddenly left him. McClain’s voice came sober, and a little sad, “...I’ve got a few things to say. First, I guess I’ll start by apologizing about what happened at my party…” Keith’s stomach dropped, butterflies replaced with what felt like lead weights. He was sorry? Lance must...regret it then… Right? 

“L-Lance-” 

“Wait, I have to get this out before I lose it,” a nervous chuckle sounded over the phone. “I am so sorry for how I acted when.. When we together. I never meant to hurt you. The opposite really. I-...I had a bad experience once at-a-a party a long time ago and I guess I put those fears and insecurities onto you. I thought I was protecting you.”   
“I didn’t need protecting. I knew what I was doing,” Keith said softly, the pain of that night coming back as a dull soreness in his chest. “I’m not good at being vulnerable, Lance. But you, you made me feel safe--so don’t feel bad okay. All that is behind us.” 

“...right,” Lance agreed. “I also need to apologize for what happened with the photos. I promised anonymity and a safe environment to be yourself; then some hijo de puta comes in and takes your picture.” ((son of a bitch)) By the end, Lance’s voice was like venom, Spanish curses spilling over the phone. Keith gave a rueful smile. 

“It would have happened eventually. And to be honest, I’m glad it did. Now everything is out in the open. Shiro’s cool with it and… all the people who really matter to me are cool with it so… It’s fine.” 

“You are too forgiving, you know that Kogane.” 

“I could go back to finding you obnoxious and annoying if you’d rather-” 

“No, no, no, forgiving is good,” Lance rambled a bit too quickly. Keith smirked, happiness pooling behind his ribs. A few moments of silence lapsed between them, both content with knowing the other was there. “Um...there’s something else I’d like to say…” 

“Geez, McClain, what else did you do?” Keith laughed. 

“It’s something you did, you stupid mullet,” Keith could practically see Lance sticking his tongue out at him. “The flowers you sent…” Lance trailed off. The rock star held his breath, the anticipation gnawing at his nerves. “Thank you...They were really nice.” Keith let out the breath he’d been holding in a relieved whoosh, his legs wobbling from the emotion effort. “I never pegged you as the romantic type,” the confident smirk was back in Lance’s voice. 

“They were just an apology, you dick,” Keith growled crossing one arm over his chest defensively. There was laugh over the other line, sending Keith’s heart racing. 

“Telling me how handsome and lovely I am was a nice touch.” Keith’s eyes widened, glancing over his shoulder toward where his brother would be in the recording room. Oh, Shiro was going to pay for that later. 

“Don’t let it get to you, McClain. If your head gets any bigger, your goofy hats won't fit anymore.”

“Fedoras are not ‘goofy’! They’re masculine, stylish, and sexy,” Lance’s voice went high pitched on the defensive. 

“Whatever helps you sleep in those nerdy space camp sheets at night, hotshot,” Keith grinned, unable to hide the blatant flirtation in his voice.

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with my space sheets the other night, pretty boy,” Lance shot back, equally flirty slurs in his voice. A flush playing on his cheeks, Keith opened his mouth to retort. The recording room’s door suddenly opened, Shiro stepping into the hall. The agent eyed the way the rock star slouched against the wall teasingly, a red tint on his cheeks, and a smirk tugging at the corner of Keith’s lips. 

“Break time’s up and I need my phone back before you get any more romantic, mushy cooties all over it,” Shiro held out a hand, asking for his phone. Keith stood up straight, clearing his throat. 

“Uh, I gotta go Lance. I need to get back to recording.” 

“Oh, uh yeah, sure,” Lance agreed, disappointment speckled in his words. 

“I’ll make sure you get my number, McClain.” 

“Really?!” Lance yelped in excited surprise. 

“Yeah…” a small smile pulled on Keith’s lips. Then Shiro caught his eye. His brother’s eyebrows were raised high on his forehead, wearing a knowing grin. Keith forced the smile away, pouting at his sudden lack of privacy. He continued talking to Lance, a little stiffly, “Just so you know, I don’t answer when I’m recording or writing. I’ll text during breaks though.” 

 

“Of course! I completely understand,” the Cuban answered. 

“…I really have to go now,” Keith glared at his brother. 

“Right! Um I’ll text you then,” Lance stuttered, giddy and barely able to contain himself. 

 

“Okay...bye Lance.” Just as he clicked end, he swore he heard Lance yell excitedly to a far away Allura. Keith pushed the phone back into Shiro’s hand. “Not a word, not a single word,” the rock star pulled open the door. His brother hissed with a little laughter making his way back to his place in the booth. “Let’s go guys,” Keith gave a nod to his band, strapping back on his guitar. Though he was back in the recording room, his mind was still filled with that irritatingly flirty Cuban. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wind rushed passed him, his body leaning into the curve of the road. The familiar hum of the vehicle between his legs melted his stress away. Music from his helmet speakers drowned out the noise of the city around him. Eyes so focused on the movement and act of controlling the mechanical beast beneath him, he had no specific destination in mind. 

With another week and a half gone by of recording and producers hounding down his neck, Keith was stuck. His creativity had run dry, and he found little inspiration in anything. Truly, the rock star had too much going on outside his career to think about. He was a celebrity now shoved into the spotlight. Something he’d been avoiding like the plague for years. Lately, though, he was shooting magazine covers, attending social events, and doing televised interviews. To be completely honest with himself, Keith enjoyed this new image. Of course, that meant he would have to be careful now more than ever. With more publicity came more opposition and more people hating him for his values. He had gotten a taste of that from those idiots and their red spray paint. 

All of that wasn’t the only thing clouding his mind, however. A certain Cuban always kept Keith on his toes. After that surprise phone call, things had been going rather well for their friendship-relationship? Keith wasn’t really sure what to call it. They’d been messaging back and forth almost daily. Most of the time it was random questions like “Ninjas or pirates?” Or “do you believe in aliens?” Then there were those days of annoying and confusing banter, each trying to insult the other in a wittier way. Eventually someone would give up--most of the time Lance--with a comment like “Sharp work, Samuri.” Except, Keith was sure there was something deeper in the way those comments were said. Something more like flirting. But what did he know? He’d never been a good judge. It never really matter much, until now. 

Keith visibly shook his head, putting his mind back to the task at hand. The producers were wanting something different. Apparently, Keith’s rock music was getting too “safe”. They said now would be a perfect time with all the current publicity to make a change. Of course they, would find a way for his coming out to make them money. Shiro said he’d support him whether he chose to branch out or stay with his current style. Which did not help in Keith’s decision. He needed to try new and different. Obviously, his current style wasn’t giving any fuel to his creativity. 

“Next up we have a song from that up and coming indie rock artist who’s built up quite a buzz recently. This is Lance McClain’s newly released single, ‘That Instant.” the radio announcer spoke and Keith’s ears strained to listen; attention fixed on the music. As the low strumming of a Cuban guitar began, a low humming sounded over the radio as it introduced the pace of the song. It was slow and swing like before the lyrics slowly started. 

Emotions feeding electric flames  
On the inside  
Words like Daggers at your burning eyes  
Sparks fly

It’s what happens in that moment,  
In that instant when  
Red and Blue  
Collide

I scratch, you swear, I hit, you bite  
I pull, you tug, I kiss, you fuck

Es lo que sucede en ese momento,  
En ese instante cuando  
Rojo y azul  
Chocar

It’s not called falling when we crash  
Heads spinning  
No time for thinking  
No nos puede detener ((there’s no stopping us))

It’s what happens in that moment,  
In that instant when  
Red and Blue  
Collide

Our smiles, our fights, you and me together  
I want it all; it’s worth everything to me

In that instant Red and Blue…  
Collide

A honk startled the rockstar from the trance. He’d been sitting at a red light, which had long since turned green. Quickly, Keith accelerated through the intersection the words of the chorus verse repeating. Eyes catching an empty parking space coming up on his left, Keith swerved out of traffic. Then, hastily pulled into the spot up against the line of the beach. Body a little shaken, he pushed down the kickstand and sat there for a moment. He stared straight ahead at the waves, not really seeing anything as the song faded to a close. 

“Shit…” He whispered to himself. Again, Keith had been marveled by Lance’ s voice. He couldn’t get over the lyrics, though. Red and blue… That had to mean him and Lance, right? Keith’s heart raced, stomach fluttering with the possibilities. Even with all this evidence, the texts, those kisses at the party, and the song, Keith still didn’t want to believe it. This couldn’t really be happening. Stuff like this doesn’t happen in reality. If Lance really liked him that much, wouldn’t he just come out and say it? Keith was the one who was supposed to have problems expressing himself, not smooth talking, confident Lance. 

Yanking off his helmet, Keith let out a grunt of frustration. He needed know what was really going on. He needed to know where they stood, soon; Keith couldn’t take much more of this emotional back and forth. With a heavy sigh, Keith ran his fingers through his tousled hair. It was getting longer on the sides again; he ought to have it cut. Yet, there was a part of him that liked the idea of keeping it long. The ocean breeze whipped around him, suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. He took in the smell of salt, seaweed, and freshness. The scent suddenly triggered something in his mind, he was sure he’d smelled this recently, though he hadn’t been to the beach all year—not really Keith’s cup of tea, too many people usually. 

Filing that in the back of his mind for further thought, Keith took to scanning the beach in front of him. His eyes glazed over bikinis, and volleyball nets, and umbrellas, taking in the atmosphere. A snort escaped him, a thought going through his mind raising the corner of his lip to a smirk. Keith vocalized it with a bitter sharpness to his tongue, “You know if this were some cheesy ass rom-com he’d-” Violet eyes landed on a familiar form, a surfboard under an arm, chatting up a group of ladies, and standing on the beach maybe sixty yards to the left of him. “No fucking way,” Keith breathed, quickly dismounting his bike and shoving the keys in his pocket. He ran a hand through his hair again, hoping it’d tone down the helmet hair before heading out onto the sand. 

His dark combat boots kicked up sand as he forced himself to casually walk toward the Cuban. As Keith came closer, he able to make out the familiar sun kissed and bare chestnut skin. All Lance wore was a sly grin and a wetsuit pulled to hang low on his curved hips. Biting the inside of his lip, Keith tried not to remember how good that skin had felt against his lips. Upon further examination, Keith guessed that the girls Lance was talking to might be fans. He was sure he heard a few giddy squeals and he watched as Lance took a selfie with all of them. Then, spurring Keith's aggravation even more, the Cuban gave each girl a kiss on the cheek after the photo. 

The rockstar’s hands clenched into tight fists. Irritation and an unrecognizable emotion caused his chest to puff out, heat burning on his cheeks. No, Keith was certain he was not jealous of those stupid girls. He was only showing concern for his friend. Lance didn’t know those girls; what if, for instance, they were to get the DNA from his cheek kisses and clone him for some crazy fan thing? His brain stuttered at the outrageous tangent his emotions had taken him on. So maybe, he was a little bothered by Lance kissing those girls; whether it be on the cheek or not. 

By the time he was only a couple yards from Lance, Keith had built himself up to an emotionally confused huff; still not sure if he was happy to see the Cuban or irritated with the state he’d found him in. At this point, Lance’s eyes caught Keith’s. The surprised expression soon turned to a delighted smile. 

“Doth my eyes deceive me? Is that Keith Kogane, rockstar, emo heart throb, dear sweet rival of mine coming over here?” The confusion and irritation melted away as soon as Lance spoke. Warmth flooded behind Keith’s chest a smile trying to fight its way to the surface. To Keith’s relief, he managed to keep his expression blank. “It was nice meeting you ladies, but I must take my leave of you now” the Cuban spoke to the group of fans, not taking his eyes away from Keith’s. There was resounding complaints and whines to which Lance responded, “You must know how it is, when tu cariño gives that look, you gotta go.” He gave a final winked at their puzzled faces before jogging up to meet Keith where he’d stopped.

Lance stuck the surfboard standing in the sand next him and leaned, with an arm around, it casually. “You’ve surprised me once again, Kogane. I never thought I’d run into you here. You’re not following me are you?” A self-satisfied grin played on his face, eyes twinkling with amusement down at Keith. 

“I’m not following you,” Keith deadpanned, “I was just out for a ride. Pure coincidence.” Lance hummed for a moment the smugness retreating from his shoulders and sincerity replacing it. 

“I never put much stock in coincidence. I believe things happen for a reason, whether it be good or bad at the time, everything works out the way it’s supposed to.” Keith stood for a moment, staring into Lance’s deep blue eyes. He must hid a lot under those smartass comments and flippant pickup lines. If this—thoughtful, kind, and encouraging person-was what he was like behind that mask, Keith would give anything to see it more.

“Are you trying to tell me fate is bringing us together?” Keith had meant it to come out as a cheeky retort, but really it sounded more like a hopeful plea. He really had to be careful about the way he said things or he’d give his emotions away too easily. 

“Hey, I just work here,” Lance waved a dismissive hand, “I don’t know what the big boss’s end game is.” Keith shook his head, eyes rolling. He could almost see Lance’s mask slipping back on. He realized, he might have to work on getting it off again. Silence hung between them for what felt like ages. He didn’t really know how to respond or even if he should respond. He settled for changing the subject. 

“...you any good,” Keith gestured to the board still in Lance’s hand. The Cuban followed his look, and shot back a grin.

“I can catch a gnarly wave now and then,” Lance raked a hand through damp hair, spiking it up in places. A small laugh bubbled from him, eyes looking far away, “You’ll never see a McClain stray too far away from the ocean.” His gaze stayed far off for another couple of seconds, before returning to Keith. A soft, goofy smile curled on his face. Keith suddenly felt uncomfortable, as if he’d witnessed a private moment he wasn’t supposed to. His eyes went to the sand, shifting his boots nervously. 

“So,” Keith cleared his throat, building some semblance of confidence back up in his shoulders, “Model, musician, surfer, is there anything Lance McClain can’t do?” Lance blinked at the unexpected praise, his signature smirk faltering of a second. However, he quickly recovered, tapping a finger on his chin in feigned thought. 

“Hmm juggle maybe? Wait no, I can do that too,” Lance winked; his shit-eating grin practically twinkled at Keith.

“Ugh you’re an idiot,” he groaned, rolling his eyes as he forced down a smile, “Why do you even know how to do that?” 

“When you have little siblings, you gotta be able to entertain,” the Cuban shrugged.

The smile finally broke onto Keith’s face as he shook his head in unbelief, “You are something else McClain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I hope there's a fireman around, cause you're smokin'!" ;) Comment and hit that Kudos ♥ 
> 
> Howdy y'all! Update, my classes have started now so there may be a longer time between the chapter uploads. I'll be working on academic assignments as well as writing and editing this fic. Thus, the delays. I will do my very best to continue on a schedule, but it might be a chapter every two weeks instead of every week. Thank you all so much for the comments, support, and understanding!


	9. Of Fancy Ice Cream and Awkward Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitions:  
> Row - means argument or fight  
> **this was just in case some of you didn't know, and to eliminate any confusion**
> 
> Chapter Notes:  
> Okay so yes, I know now that Lance is the youngest child in canon. However, I wrote this before that was released and when I was editing I didn't feel I should change it in this particular storyline. Same goes for Keith's birthday, which I have chosen not to specify yet. One more thing, in regards to this being a week later than I previously said; it is about 2000 words longer than past chapters. So, I hope you can forgive me.

“Come on, mullet head, walk with me,” Lance laughed, waving his hand in the direction of the parking spots on the beach’s edge. He picked up his board and began the trek. Keith followed, falling into step next to the Cuban. Lance stayed quiet a few ticks, only looking straight ahead as he spoke,“You know…There are plenty of things I can’t do.” 

“Oh?” Keith encouraged lightly, letting Lance know he was listening.

“Yeah big shock, I know,” he chuckled a little darkly at himself, “I can’t really cook...I’ve tried, but the only thing I ever managed successfully were abuela’s ajiaco soup. And I’ve got the blackest thumb of anyone in the universe.” 

“But the garden-” Keith interrupted, puzzled.

“A friend of mine did all that for me. You probably met him, Matt Holt. He actually owns Extraterrestrial Flora, the flower shop you sent the flowers from. He did all that with the garden when I first moved in. After I uh-” Lance cleared his throat embarrassedly, “accidentally killed them the first time, he insisted he be the one to do all maintenance himself.” Keith gave an amused snort but didn’t say anything. “Then there’s…” Lance started, but let the thought die in his throat. The rockstar glanced at him. The smile had left his face and he was biting his bottom lip. 

Lance paused his steps for a moment, meeting Keith’s eyes with a bashful expression. “There’s this friend of mine, that I-I like a lot but I can’t bring myself to tell them.” A blush crept up Keith’s face as the Cuban stared unblinking, searching for something. 

“W-why can’t you?” Keith rubbed the back of his neck butterflies jumping in his stomach. 

“I guess, I’m just.. Scared-” 

“Scared? Of what?” The rockstar asked with a jolt of surprise. A shy laugh came from the Cuban. 

“Well, he might not feel the same for way...I mean, it’s not just that. What if I screw something up? Then our friendship will get all awkward and we’ll promise each other it won’t but it will. I… I felt a kind of connection with this person. It was incredible, and a little crazy, and intimidating all at the same time. I want him in my life. I just-I want more than a friendship and not knowing whether he wants that too is really, really scary.” Lance couldn’t look Keith in the face now, his eyes lay fixed on the ground; his free arm hugged his torso in a defensive posture. 

A wave of relief came over Keith. Suddenly it was as if he could breathe again. There had been something bothering him--subconsciously until now--ever since that first kiss at Lance’s birthday party. He needed to know what Lance’s feelings were. He needed to know for sure if what Keith had felt between them was reciprocated. After a long couple of weeks, there was Lance practically giving him the answer. No, Keith decided, not practically. This was it. Lance took seriousness in moderation, Keith had learned that fairly quickly. So he knew this was as clear as the Cuban could get in his state of anxiousness and vulnerability. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t sell this other person so short,” Keith allowed a grin to break onto his face. He took a few steps closer, causing Lance to look up finally. “I’m a little scared too,” Keith’s quiet words were barely audible over the crashing of the waves and the rush of the breeze. “But maybe we could work on being braver..together?” The rockstar nearly winced at how cliche that sounded, yet it expressed what he wanted perfectly. “I like you, Lance and I think there’s something here,” he gestured a bit with his hand, his words raising a heated blush on his cheeks, “I would like to see where a-uh-a relationship might go; if you think you want that too…” 

Lance dropped his surfboard. In less than a blink of an eye, Keith was wrapped in tanned arms. It took a moment before he realized Lance was hugging him; arms held tight around his shoulders. As soon as the realization hit him, Keith snaked his arms around Lance’s back in return. 

“Yes, that is absolutely what I want,” the Cuban whispered, gratefully into Keith’s ear. It took all of Lance’s self-control not to press kisses into Keith’s cheeks and neck. They were still in the eyes of the public after all. And they’d have plenty of time for that later. 

They parted rather reluctantly on both sides. “Are you free now? I’ve got a standing table at the best gelato place in town,” Lance asked, eyes shining.

“I’m lactose intolerant,” Keith deadpanned. 

“Really??” 

“Yeah, I would I lie about that?” 

“I guess you wouldn’t,” Lance’s frowned, a pout forming on his face, “It’s just, gelato is so goooodd.” He was whining now and Keith raised an eyebrow. He wanted to question why he even liked the man-child standing in front of him. But Keith couldn’t bring himself to do it. In all honesty, Lance’s pouting face was kind of endearing. 

“We can go to the gelato place, Lance. I’ll just get sorbet or something.” The pout left the Cuban's face immediately, an ecstatic goofy grin replacing it.

“Wooho! Let’s go!” Lance grabbed up his surfboard and raced the rest of the way toward a teal blue, jeep wrangler that was taken straight out of the 80s. Keith scrambled to catch up, getting to him only by the time he’d already situated his board in the back. 

“We are not going in that,” Keith crossed his arms over his chest. Lance looked up from pulling his wetsuit down his body. He revealed blue swim trunks with white stripes underneath. 

“Are you insulting my ride?” Lance gasped, though with a little difficulty in his bent position. Stumbling ungracefully, he peeled himself fully out his wetsuit and tossed it in the back of his jeep. 

“Mhmm no, just saying mine is better.” 

“Pfft yeah right. What do you have?” The Cuban grabbed a white muscle shirt with swirls of blue on the front that matched his swim trunks. 

“Come and see,” Keith smirked, jerking his chin in the direction he’d parked and started walking. There was a call for him to wait up as Lance yanked on some light colored boat shoes. Keith stopped, only a few parking spaces away, next to his motorcycle. The sunshine glinted off the cherry red accents on the fuel tank and front fender. Its muffler and shock absorbing springs were polished to a mirror-like shine. And the leather covering the exquisitely curved seat had a stripe of a similar red down the middle. 

“What. Is. That.” Lance finally managed to reach Keith, now staring with wide eyes at Keith’s bike. 

“This is a ‘86 Kawasaki Eliminator; 105 horsepower, 9500 revs per minute, and a 908 cylinder capacity, 4 stroke engine. Weighing in dry at approximately 525 pounds,” pride swelled in Keith’s chest, gaze not leaving the beautiful machine. 

“No deberías ser tan atractivo hablar de una máquina de muerte…” ((You should not be this attractive talking about a death machine)) Lance let out a whining breath, eyes roaming up and down Keith and then the motorcycle. Without acknowledging him, Keith grabbed his helmet and shoved it into Lance’s arms. 

“I didn’t expect company so you can use my helmet for now,” the rockstar swung a leg over the seat, climbing on.

“What about you?!” Lance squeaked, holding a white-knuckled grip on the deep red glossy helmet. 

“A little danger makes things interesting,” with a smirk, he turned on the vehicle and revved the engine. Keith backed out of the spot slowly, using his feet, angled in the direction of the street and waited. 

“I’m gonna die.. This is it.. This is the last of Lance McClain. Goodbye, world. I left you too soon,” Lance sniveled and pulled on the helmet. He tiptoed forward and at a snail’s pace slung one leg over, getting on the bike. 

“You’re not going to die, my god. If anything happens I’ll get the worst of it. You’ll be fine.” 

“That should make me feel better, but it doesn’t,” Lance hissed, muffled through the head protection. 

“Just hold on would you, hotshot.” 

“I am!” Lance held onto the raised seat’s back, leaning as far away from Keith as possible. The rockstar threw a glance over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. With a swift movement, Keith grabbed Lance’s hands and pulled them to his own hips. 

“Hold on here. Trust me, you’ll need the support. Unless you want to fly off?” Okay, so maybe Keith exaggerated just a bit. But it got Lance to move down, his hips a hair away from flush against Keith’s back. Biting the inside of his cheek, Keith could feel the heat of Lance’s slender hands gripping his hips. This was going to challenge his willpower, attraction trickling through him. Clearing his throat and the dangerous thoughts from his mind, Keith asked, “Ready?”

An answering grunt came from behind him. Then, they were off. The low rumble of the motorcycle under them calmed some of the butterflies quivering in the rockstar’s stomach. His heart and mind raced with the possibilities to come. Wind rippled through his hair, and he closed his eyes for a brief second taking it all it. The comfortable feeling of his bike, the exhilarating rush of fresh air, and the Cuban’s hands gripping his hips. Happiness flooded Keith’s chest, this right here may be his new favorite place. 

As they traveled further down the road Lance began giving overtly loud directions; his voice trying to compete with the roar of the bike. Keith could have down right laughed when they passed over a pothole causing Lance to lurch, and press firmly up against his back, head resting near his shoulder. After another ten minutes and a few more turns, the Cuban guided them into a strip mall type area. He pointed at a shop called “Crystal Balmera” and Keith pulled in one of the front spots. 

Immediately after Keith turned off the vehicle, Lance slid off the bike and onto wobbly legs. He tugged off the helmet, shaking his head a bit. Keith glancing over and nearly choked. Lance’s caramel locks looked less like helmet head and more like sex hair, his cheeks were glowing with a hint of redness, and his big blue eyes were twinkling with adrenaline. Fuck me… Keith thought, taking a shaky breath and dismounting his motorcycle. 

“Okay, so that was more fun than I thought,” Lance flashed Keith a wink, handing back the helmet before he continued, “Maybe I could get used to this riding thing.” With a flustered blush rising to his cheeks, the rockstar took the helmet and secured it to the helmet lock near the front bars of the bike. 

“Let’s just go,” Keith grumbled and they started toward the gelato place. Keith reached the door first, pulling it open and letting Lance pass. 

“What a gentleman,” Lance feigned a swoon as he passed. Keith let out a low growl, stomping in after him. Earthy tones greeted them in the little shop. A few booths lined the opposing walls, diamond-shaped tables in the middle, and a clear showing case at the back of the store had the gelato on slabs to be picked from. There was a number of people bustling around quietly in the shop; some talking at tables and others choosing flavors at the counter. Lance went straight for the counter, Keith following behind. They waited only a short minute or two before a familiar face greeted them.

“Hey Lance! Keith! Nice to see you again,” the dark-skinned, beautiful Shay smiled at them. 

“Nice to see you too,” Keith sent a soft smiled back and a little wave. 

“Shay!” Lance squealed excitedly and leaned his body awkwardly over the counter to give her a hug. She accepted with a light giggle before he pulled away. “You gotta hit us up with the good stuff now, three flavors, a macaron, the whole nine! Put it all on my tab.”

“Of course! You’re regular then?” 

“Yes! And Keith-” before Keith could answer himself, Lance had leaned over the counter again whispering to Shay. She nodded thoughtfully at whatever Lance was saying. 

“I think I can whip something up! You two have a seat, and I’ll get that out to you,” she waved a hand and shuffled off to start making their order. Lance again, lead the way toward an isolated booth in the back corner. Sliding in on one side, Keith sat in the other. 

“Wow, table service at an ice cream parlor?” Keith eyed the counter where Shay was working away at scooping out some chocolate gelato. 

“Gelato is fancy ice cream, Keith. So you have to have fancy service... And I get the friends and family package.” 

“Right…” 

They lapsed into silence, an unseen wall of awkwardness suddenly separating them. Keith cracked his knuckles continuously under the table to have something to do with his hands. Lance let out a few out of place, breathy chuckles not daring to look into the bright purple eyes that stared at him. They both let out an outward sigh of relief when Shay brought over their gelato. She held two cones in her hand, each with different colors of Italian ice cream shaped into a rose with a macaron cookie on top. 

“Double chocolate and vanilla blueberry with a dark chocolate macaron,” Shay handed Lance his, then turned to Keith, “Royal Chocolate, vanilla cream, and Roman raspberry sorbet with a raspberry macaron to top it off.”

“Thank you,” Keith breathed, eyes widening in awe at brown, white, and blush pink of the sorbet rose. 

“It’s my pleasure! Let me know if I can get you anything else,” Shay gave a wave before hurrying back to the counter. The boys started in on their ice cream, both making satisfied noises. 

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted!” Keith mumbled through the macaron in his mouth. Lance looked over to see pink cookie crumbling from Keith’s mouth and a little chocolate sorbet spotted messily on the corner of his lips. A full body laugh shook Lance, causing him to almost lose his gelato. “What’s so funny?” The rockstar looked puzzled, a little frown forming. 

“You’ve got-” Lance wheezed through his laugh, gesturing toward where the spot of sorbet was on Keith’s face. 

“O-oh,” embarrassment dusted his pale cheeks, he took a napkin and wiped his face. As the Cuban’s musical laugh continued, Keith found himself giddy as well. Contagious laughter spread among them until they were both out of breath. As soon as Lance had a moment of recovery, he spoke.

“I’m so sorry, really it wasn’t that funny. That was too cute,” Lance beamed at him. Affection shot warmth to his heart till he nearly couldn’t breathe. There was something about the way, Keith looked. It was like the rest of Lance’s life was sitting right in front of him. The rockstar soon turned his head down, bashfully away from Lance’s searing gaze. “So...What’s in your fridge at home, right at this very moment?” 

“What?” Keith’s head jerked up, utter confusion written on his face. 

“I’m trying to break the ice, get to know you more, you know?” Lance explained. 

“Oh okay…” 

“So what does Kogane eat in his natural habitat? What’s in your fridge? 5...4…3-” 

“Uh..uh.” Keith’s brain stuttered to think of something before yelling the first thing that came to mind, “Um... bacon!” 

“Bacon? That’s it,” Lance hissed with another burst of laughter. 

“Shut up, I’m not good at thinking under pressure.” Folding his arms, Keith sat back a pout on his face. 

“Alright, no more time limits, I’m sorry. You can go next,” Lance leaned an elbow on the table, head in his hand--ice cream long since eaten. Keith let out a scoff. 

“So really we’re playing twenty questions?” 

“Sure,” Lance shrugged, “now lay one on me!” Keith pursed his lips in thought before speaking. 

“What’s your favorite movie?”

“Hmm originality, nice,” Lance raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Back to the Future, I dig the notion of time travel. And Marty McFly rocking out to ‘Johnny B Good’--awesome,” he closed his eyes in happy memory. 

“I would have pegged you as a Star Wars fanatic or maybe Star Trek,” Keith offered. 

“Nah, can’t be too predictable! Alrighty, my turn,” Lance wiggled in his seat, excitedly, “When’s your birthday?” 

“It’s a secret.” 

“What? You know when mine is! You can’t just-” 

“It’s my answer though, and now it’s my turn,” Keith smirked, quickly changing the subject. “Have you... Ever had a nickname?” Lance huffed at Keith’s deflection but confidently went on to answer. 

“The first year in high school they called me the tailor, because of how I thread the needle.” The Cuban winked, a shit-eating smirk on his face. Keith scowled right back. 

“That’s an innuendo isn’t it?” Lance opened his mouth to answer and Keith stopped him, “Eh-no, changed my mind, I don’t want to know.” 

“Fine. Your loss though,” Lance snickered. “Hmm.. If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?” 

“Ramen noodles, you know, the cheap packaged stuff.” 

“Yeah I know of it. But why that?” Lance leaned in a bit, interest piqued. 

“Uh, I don’t know,” Keith rubbed the back of his neck, in a nervous gesture. “Whenever I got sick, and our parents were at work, Shiro would make me ramen noodles and put it in this mug so I could eat it easier in bed. He always made a point to use the same mug too. I gave it to him for Christmas when I was eleven, it said number one dad on it. But I crossed the dad part out with a sharpie and wrote brother really awkwardly to the side. It was really stupid now that I think about it.”

“No…” Lance breathed a small smile on his face, “I bet he loved it. I cherished everything my little brother and sister gave me. Anything you give out of love to someone is important and special; no matter how stupid it may seem to other people.” 

“Thanks…” A slight smile turned up the corner of Keith’s lips. They stared a little while, only looking at each other. “So…” the rockstar cleared his throat, suddenly realizing what they were doing. “What’s your favorite place in the entire universe?”

“Can I be really specific?” Lance asked not letting his smitten gaze leave Keith for a moment. 

“Uh sure, yeah.” 

“Every Christmas eve mi familia used to have this tradition, after dinner all my siblings and I would sit on the floor, gathered around mi mamá y papá. After everyone settled down, they’d start singing together. Each year we’d take turns picking the song. They only ever sang one a year, cause mi mamá is a little tone deaf,” Lance’s eyes became a little glassy, going far away again, a sad smile tugging at his mouth. “But when they sang together… It never mattered whether she hit the notes perfect. They were just so in love with each other, and us, that it turned out to be the most beautiful thing you could ever hear. Words can’t do it justice, the only way you really experience it is.. If you’re there-” The Cuban’s voice cracked, eyes a little redder now and smile completely gone. 

There was a second of hesitation before Keith relented, reaching across and grabbing Lance’s hand. He felt real pain seeing the other suffer; so real it physically ached in his chest. Keith’s heart was breaking for Lance’s family and for Lance himself. He wasn’t really a believer in fate or destiny or a higher power. But at this moment, his entire being wished and prayed that someway, somehow Keith could help. No answer came right then. But in the back of his mind, he’d remember. He’d keep wishing on every shooting star if he had to. Lance was going to see his family again. 

“I’m sorry,” Lance blinked as if he were returning to the here and now. He sniffed a bit, scrubbing a hand down his face. His eyes went to Keith’s hand over his and a smile ghosted his lips before he looked away. Lance shifted them so their fingers interlaced together. 

“No, don’t be sorry for that… I-I’d love to hear more about your family if you want to.” 

“Of course, I can talk about them all day,” Lance beamed back, the happiness overtaking the sadness again. “I’m in the middle of six kids; there’s my older brother, Manuel, my two older sisters, Sierra and Reyes, me, then a younger brother, Angelo, and a baby sister, Olivia. I have a lot of aunts and uncles on mi papa’s side which you can only ever get all together on big holidays. But mi abuela, abuelo, mama y papa, mi tia Clara, and all of the kids live in one house!” 

“That must have been crowded,” Keith looked wide-eyed, anxiety building in his chest just thinking of that many people. Lance laughed at the rock star’s reaction. 

“It was hard at times, being that close to family all the time. And we certainly didn’t choose it at first. Things happened, and we tried to make the best of it. And we did. Even when circumstances changed, we stayed together. It’s hard to explain exactly, but there’s something about being immersed in an atmosphere of people with so much unconditional love, it makes even the tightest rooms breathable.” 

“Wow, that...actually seems really amazing,” Keith bit his lip, a little bit hoping and a little bit wishing he could experience that. Lance squeezed their interlocked hands in a reassuring way. The rockstar met those blue orbs, and it was as if a silent message was shared between them. It couldn’t be put into words what was shared, but it was there. Both parties felt it; a spark, a connection, emotion that was too much to bear alone. 

“Enough about mi familia, what about yours? I know there’s Shiro but…” Lance let the rest die away, giving Keith the opening to pick up. Shoulders drooping, Keith gave a sigh. He’d been mentally preparing for this as soon as family got brought up. But being prepared, and actually telling was a different matter. 

“You want the sugar coated version or the really screwed up truth?” Lance paused searching Keith’s face before answering.

“Whichever you want to tell me, I’ll be okay with. Only tell me what you’re ready for me to know.” 

“...okay…” Keith took in another breath, deciding almost immediately which he was telling. “My biological dad joined the Army when he turned 25. His first deployment he got stationed in South Korea; where he met my mother. I was born a year after that. I don’t really know much about what happened, just that something went wrong and my dad brought me back to the states with him, alone. I can remember us doing pretty well for a long time. Until one night when I was about seven or eight, he didn’t come home from work. After a couple of days, a neighbor realized I was by myself and called the police. They sent me to child services and filed a missing person’s report on my dad. Nothing came of it for a long time, everyone started to realize he probably just up and left…” Keith let his eyes wander to the side, not able to look at anything right now. 

“I went to a lot of foster homes, a group home or two, before I landed with the Montgomerys. They’d adopted Shiro when he was a baby, and they had fostered before so they didn’t mind taking in me for a little while. My mom-er Lauren Montgomery--tells it like as soon as I arrived she knew they’d never be able to let me go. Dad says he was too selfish to let anybody else have me--they’re both pretty sentimental,” Keith gave a soft smile before continuing. 

“The adoption was finalized the year I turned eleven. The last I heard from my biological dad was seven years ago. That...that motorcycle just showed up one day in our driveway. He left a note on the seat. Basically just saying, it was time for me to have it and he was glad my life turned out well or some shit like that… He didn’t even have the guts to say anything to my face…” Keith felt his grip on Lance’s hand tighten to a bruising pressure. Without making a fuss, Lance gently set his other hand over theirs; lightly bringing Keith out of his anger. “Oh, sorry...It’s hard not to get caught up in that stuff again,” Keith pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to relax his hand. 

“I understand,” Lance offered, “Memories and the past can affect us in big ways; it’s hard to let go of… Every day is a fight to focus on the present. But people have your back, even if you don’t feel like they're there sometimes. If you can remember that, you won’t be alone.” 

“Wow.. that was really profound.” 

“You're welcome,” Lance grinned shooting a finger gun Keith’s way.

“And the moment's ruined,” he rolled his eyes, yet didn't let go of Lance's hand. Lance noticed and squeezed their intertwined fingers lightly. This time when their eyes met they didn’t rush to look away. The pair sat finally relaxing and admiring the other’s presence. After a few seconds passed, Lance took in a breath about to speak. But a lumbering figure suddenly appeared next to their table. 

“Hey guys!” Hunk stood tall, grinning at both of them. The two shared a look before awkwardly letting their hands go. Keith cleared his throat pulling both hands into his lap, a blush working its way up his neck. 

“Hey Hunk,” Lance patted his friend’s arm, “Whatcha doing here hermano?”

“Just came to pick up Shay! Then I saw you guys over here and I thought I’d say hi,” Hunk grinned eyeing both of them, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “I’m not interrupting anything am I?” 

“Uh well,” Lance glanced at Keith with apologetic eyes, “Yeah, you kinda are.”

“Really? Yay!” Hunk yelped with a hiss of excitement. He fumbled to get his phone from his pocket, tapping rapidly on it before he froze. “Wait, who asked who?” Lance and Keith blinked both taken aback by the sudden reaction. Hunk looked around, as a sudden light bulb turned on, “Hold up, this is Crystal Balmera. It had to have been--Lance!” Hunk groaned, a frown coming to his face. 

“What?” Lance asked, confusing furrowing his eyebrows. 

“Now I owe Pidge forty bucks,” Hunk grumbled further, forgetting whatever he was typing and shoved his phone into his pocket. 

“WHAT?! You bet against me?” Lance gasped, an offended hand coming over his heart. 

“Come on bud, we both know you can be a chicken sometimes. And Keith is definitely more dom-” 

“What. Is. Happening?” Keith stopped Hunk before he could finish that sentence. The other two looked over at the rockstar, mid-movement. 

“I bet Pidge you’d be the one to ask Lance out first.” Keith’s eyebrows raised. 

“Forty dollars, Hunk,” Lance whined tugging on his friend's arm. 

“Pidge takes bets very seriously,” Hunk shrugged, speaking in a defeated tone. They glared at each other, forcing their best scowls on their faces. Keith’s eyes flicked between them both, taking in their continued row. A warm feeling whirled in his chest. Snickers bubbled up from him which soon grew into a shoulder-shaking laughter. The squabbling boys stopped, turning to stare at the laughing rockstar.

“Keith?” Lance questioned as the laughter continued. 

“I should be mad but you two are just too funny,” Keith breathed, chest heaving as he wiped a tear from his eye. A blush pooled behind Lance’s cheeks as he grinned--the happiness contagious. 

“Sorry,” the Cuban ran his fingers through his hair, eyeing his tall friend. Hunk shrugged mumbling an agreement. 

After the two best friends settled down and the confused tension within the group relaxed, Hunk quickly said his goodbyes. Giving the couple one last look, with big shining chocolate eyes, he skipped off to meet with his finance. “Well, that was interesting…” Keith watched as Hunk and Shay left the shop, a smile not leaving his lips. 

“I still can’t believe my best friend bet forty dollars against me,” Lance pouted, resting his chin on his folded arms laying atop the table. 

“Lance, it’s time to release your inner ice queen and let it go.” The Cuban’s gaze burned deep into Keith’s at that remark. 

“Don’t you win me over with Frozen references, young man. Besides, I’m clearly princess Moana; strong-willed and chosen by the sea.” Lance stated matter of factly. Keith snorted.

“I’d say you’re more of a HeiHei,” Keith slid out of his seat and stretched a bit. The other man’s jaw dropped open, immediately rising from his seat. 

“Did you just call me a stupid rooster?!” 

“Of course not,” the rockstar assured him with a roll of his eyes. Lance grumbled in response crossing his arms and pouting once again. As the two walked toward the door, Keith bumped Lance’s shoulder and spoke in a softer voice, “You’d make a pretty rooster.” 

“Tch,” Lance clicked his tongue but couldn’t hide a smile. He dropped his arms to his sides and the confidence came back to his step. Lance walked ahead of Keith, turning around backward to talk, “You know, I bet if you’d kiss me I’d turn into a handsome prince.” He gave an eyebrow wiggle before stopping at the glass door. 

“That’s not how it works,” Keith deadpanned, pushing passed and opening the door so they could both go through. They stepped into the parking lot, the rockstar leading the way to his motorcycle. 

“It’s fantasy and fairy tale, Keith,” Lance was suddenly very close behind him, whispering near Keith’s ear. “Anything could happen.” Lance’s chocolate blueberry breath caressed over the skin of Keith’s neck, causing a blush to flood to his cheeks. 

“C-come on, it’s getting dark already,” Keith rushed to mount his bike and wait for Lance to do the same. His heart was racing again. Palms were a little sweaty. The temperature of his body increased with the thought of how close they’d been just now. And suddenly he remembered where he’d smelled that scent before, the one that triggered a happy feeling on the beach, the one he couldn’t place. The scent was of the salt and seaweed. It was Lance. Lance smelled of salt and the sea. Keith closed his eyes, committing the scent to memory. Damn it, Keith. Talk about falling hard and fast… His mind scoffed at him but he couldn’t be bothered to care because now there were tanned arms wrapped around his waist ready and waiting for the two of them to go. Without another word, Keith started the engine and began their trip back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If you were a fruit, you'd be a fineapple." ;) lol honestly these just keep getting cheesier. Anyway, please comment and hit that kudos ♥
> 
> I'm not going to lie, when I was writing the bit about Christmas Eve with Lance's family I started to tear up. I don't know why, I just felt for our Lancey Lance, you know. *sad sigh* oh well Keith will find some way to help ;)


	10. I Dream of Robot Space Lions?!?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes:  
>  This is shorter, but it was a sacrifice for a chapter with more flow next time. I should be getting the next update out sooner. I'm already working on the editing of it. Thank you for your patience y'all!
> 
> ***WARNING: about halfway through, there are panic attack symptoms described. However, it only persists for a few sentences. If you don't want to read it once you get to "A swirling mixture of emotions..." skip to "Hey team Leader." ***

Sunset blanketed the town in a fiery orange glow. Keith’s eyes trained on the shadowy road ahead, sweat collecting on his forehead. His attention wavered from the street by Lance’s form molded against him. Every place their bodies touched, his back, his thighs, hands on his hips, was burning. Obviously, Lance was no longer shy about holding onto him. He took a deep breath of cooling air. Focus… relax… His mind reminded him of the comfort he’d felt before with Lance in the ice cream parlor. A small smile pulled at his lips and relaxed into the touches. 

The ride back to the beach came to an end far too quickly after that. Parking lot now in sight. Most of it was empty, only a few vans parked at the far end. Down the way, on the sand, was a mass of people working together to build up a slowly blazing bonfire. The sun continued to hang lower and lower over the water, light glinted and gleaming off the dark navy ocean. Keith pulled into the empty space next to Lance’s blue beat up jeep. He shut off the bike and stood, leaning the vehicle to a stable position. Reluctantly, Lance released Keith’s waist and hopped off the bike. Handing the helmet back he stood next to the bike. Silence spread between them as they waited for someone to say something.

“Thank-” Both young men began at the same time. The Cuban chuckled waving a hand for Keith to continue first.

“Thanks…it was really nice.” 

“Well yeah, man! Balmera is the best place in town for all your gelato and sherbet needs. I’ve got the hookup,” Lance winked, pride puffing his chest.

“Oh, the sherbet was great. But I meant it was nice going on a date with you.”

“Oh,” a rosy blush colored his chestnut cheeks. He let out an uncharacteristic giggle under his breath. “Yeah, it was nice,” Lance looked up at Keith through dark lashes, eyes sparkling. 

“I’ll pick the place next time?” Keith asked nerves making his heart pump a little faster. The Cuban’s face broke into a wide smile. Shoulders straightening in confidence, he nodded wildly in agreement. Another few moments passed them by, neither knowing how to leave. “So um-“

“Oh wait,” Lance yelped suddenly bouncing up and down. “Hold on. Stay right there!” He rushed to his jeep and fumbled with his keys. Finally able to unlock the door he folded over the driver’s seat and rummaged through his glove box. Keith let his eyes linger on the bent over Cuban; his shirt slid up revealing the smooth curvature of his back and Lance’s swim shorts hugged his tight, perfect—

“Enjoying the view back there, Mullet?” Keith’s eyes snapped up. Lance sent a sly grin over his shoulder. 

“I wasn’t- uh I—sorry,” the rockstar coughed into his hand awkwardly. Standing up, Lance eyed his admirer up and down. 

“No worries, I know my hot bod is irresistible,” Lance swayed his hips as he walked back over to Keith. The rockstar rolled his eyes, muttering an annoyed comment. “Here,” Lance stuck a handful of black leather in Keith’s face. 

“What’s…?” Keith took the fabric and quickly realized what it was. His whole body went hot and his face got redder than his cherry painted motorcycle. Keith held a pair of fingerless gloves in his hands. 

“I-erm- had them cleaned,” Lance rubbed the back of his neck a blush dusting his cheeks. “I thought you might be missing them.” 

“Oh uh yeah I was,” Keith hastily slipped them on. The leather slid right into place, the familiar sensation sending a satisfied sigh through him. “Sorry I left them.”

“No problema that whole night ended in kind of a rush so…” Lance let the sentence die away. Neither man wanting to dredge up too much of that night. They had moved passed it and they were slowly working toward something better. The pair held eye contact for a few ticks, soaking in each other’s company for a few more precious seconds. In a tender quiet voice, Keith spoke up.

“I ought to head home now. I have to get back to Shiro. As it is I’ll get a lecture for storming out of a meeting with my producers.” 

“Maldito hombre,” ((Damn man)) Lance chuckled lightly, “You have fun with that.” Keith shrugged in reply, raising his helmet to put on. “Keith—”

“Yeah?” The rockstar answered immediately putting his helmet back down and looked at Lance again. The Cuban was suddenly upon him, arms pulling him into a hug. It was a little awkward because of the angles and maybe a little forced. And, it wasn’t exactly what Keith was expecting to end their first date. But all that was okay because they were together and it felt nice. His free arm curled around Lance’s back, pulling the other man in as tight as he could. 

“Nos vemos,” ((We’ll see each other soon)) Lance spoke, face buried in Keith’s shoulder.

“I can only guess that means bye?” The Cuban laughed a little as they pulled back from the hug. 

“Something like that.” It did mean that of course, but it went a little deeper. It wasn’t just a goodbye, it was a promise they’d meet again, a promise for the future.

“Then… uh,” pulling some spare shred of courage out of nowhere, Keith gave an impulsive kiss to Lance’s cheek, “N-nos vemos, Lance.” As the Cuban stood astounded, Keith yanked on his helmet and called the engine to life. He slowly backed out of the spot and gave a wave to Lance. Riding away, Keith’s lips tingled and sparked feeling Lance’s skin still under them. He gave a quick look over his shoulder, catching the other man in the midst of a triumphant fist punch to the air. A goofy grin rose to Keith’s face, today turned out pretty great after all. 

 

Keith stared up at the jet black painted robot cat. He wasn’t sure how but he knew what it was, he knew it was important. And for some reason, looking at it made his chest tightened and his heart squeeze with sadness. A swirling mixture of emotions pooled behind his ribs; sorrow, confusion, anger, fear. The feelings were all too overwhelming. He wanted them to stop. His breath started to come in quick gasps, Keith’s body reacting to the stress—starting to shake. An ache gathered behind his eyes. The image of the towering lion blurred as tears formed. A hand laid gently on his shoulder. Keith hastily ran an arm over his face before glancing over at the person to his right. 

“Hey team leader,” a familiar soft smile greeted him. The pain swallowing him lessened as he searched the bright caramel features of the boy. 

“Hi Lance,” Keith responded holding back a sad smile. Lance wore white and blue colored armor and held a helmet of the same colors under his arm. His eyes were still as blue as the sky and he still held the scent of the salted ocean breeze. But something was different; just slightly. He looked… younger? Like a teenager. 

“Lost in your own world again, I see,” Lance let out a chuckle, rolling his eyes. Giving Keith’s shoulder a little shake, the other boy continued, “Come on, back to this reality, Mullet.” With a tsking click of his tongue, Keith pushed his hand off. 

“Buzz off goofball,” Keith voiced with a strange echo reverberating through his mind. Weird… Lance stuck out his tongue childishly mocking Keith’s words. The two quieted, their gazes resting on the magnificent robotic machine in front of them.

“That was some sharp work today samurai,” Lance said, in a quiet voice—as to not break the atmosphere. “You saved our butts back there. Without that plan… I don’t know if Allura and I could have made it out of that.” 

“Ooh look who drank their respecting the leader juice this morning,” Keith smirked. A hard shove from Lance came, sending Keith swaying over with laughter. 

“I’m trying to give you a compliment, jerk,” the blue armor clad boy crossed his arms, sticking out his bottom lip. 

“I know,” Keith whispered bumping Lance’s shoulder with his own, “Thank you.” Sparkling blue eyes gazed into Keith’s own, a soft smile pulling on his lips. The sadness behind his ribs was dulled and forgotten. 

“Keith…” Lance breathed in a small voice. He suddenly looked very small as his shoulders turned in and a nervous hand rubbed the back of his neck. “What are we? T-to the team...to each other?” Keith blinked unsure of what the other was referring to. 

“You’re the right hand of Voltron? We’re like… co-captains,” Keith shrugged with his hands spread wide. Lance let out a breathy chuckle full of awkwardness. 

“O-kay… but what about—” Lance waved a hand between them, redness building on his cheeks. 

“What?” Keith’s confusion spread in his thoughts, not only to what Lance was saying but also throughout his mind. Why was he here again? Where was here? Why was Lance dressed like this? Why the hell was there a robot cat in front of them? A headache pounded against his skull. He rubbed his temples as Lance tried to further explain. 

“You know...ugh like,” Lance stumbled over his words, “I comfort you, you comfort me. I’ve most definitely flirted with you before, Mullethead. And don’t think I haven’t noticed those annoyingly soft smiles you only give me.” He was suddenly right in front of Keith. Hands came up taking Keith’s hands in his, pulling them away from his temples. Lance looked at Keith with round tentative eyes. He let go of one of Keith’s hands, letting his knuckles caress a pale blushing cheek. “Just think about it Keith, red and blue, mullet - no mullet, all that stuff. Yin yang you know. I mean, we’re a Leo and a Scorpio for quiznak’s sake. We just fit.” 

“I don’t think our star signs really have anything to do with this,” Keith scoffed, no real power behind it. “Wait—I thought you were a Gemini?” 

“Different reality, keep up el príncipe,” Lance’s voice was suddenly muffled as if he was talking through water. Everything was starting to get fuzzy. The background behind Lance was blurred and he was no longer able to focus on the room around them. What was happening? The headache rammed louder against his ears and his body felt tired. It got heavier with every breath he took. “I’m trying to say that I—” Lance gulped, “I like you more than a leader or a friend.”

“Lance—” Keith grabbed onto Lance’s wrist with a light grip. Keith knew he was touching the boy; he even leaned into the hand on his cheek. But he couldn’t feel it. Just like his surroundings, his sense of touch was fading.

“There’s something here… you just have to let yourself care about me,” the blue armored boy spoke quietly. “Please…” Lance’s hand left Keith’s cheek, arm snaking around his waist and pulled Keith closer. “It’s okay to care.” 

“O-of course I care,” Keith didn’t look into Lance’s eyes. As he continued to speak, Keith was sure there was a delay. He was suddenly too tired to care, letting his voice speak on its own, “I like you too, annoying idiot.” All he could feel was Lance’s fingers combing through his hair. Tingles went through his body recognizing the feeling. Keith wanted to close his eyes but couldn’t—some unseen force keeping them open. He watched as the Cuban leaned closer. Keith knew what was coming next, his body shivered with excitement. Then-

the whole scene melted to black. 

The darkness behind his eyelids met Keith with an unhappy greeting. He let out a low groan, wishing himself back into the dream. He tried. He really really did. But he was awake now and fully aware of how hot he was. His sheets were constricting him in a vise grip tangled around his legs. Somehow all his pillows were scattered across the floor next to the bed frame. With a deep scratchy growl, he reached over to his nightstand and groped around until finding his phone. Keith clicked on the screen, a horrendously bright screen light seared his corneas. He shielded them with a hiss until his eyes adjusted to the light. The time on his phone read 3:12 am. 

“Ugh,” Keith snarled flopping his head back on the pillow angrily. He glared at his phone while unlocking the screen. His last texts came up and immediately put a grin on his face. Lance had sent a final “nighty night sleepy Keith” about three and a half hours ago. He felt a little bad for falling asleep in the middle of whatever their conversation had been. Nevertheless, it was nice falling asleep talking to the Cuban. 

Keith meant to exit the message and try to catch some more z’s, but his half-asleep fingers hit the call button instead. “SHIT!” He hissed, sitting straight up in the bed. His wide eyes stared at the outgoing call screen. Before he could unfreeze, the call picked up. A rough, heavy accented voice poured through the phone. Keith winced at the sharp tone of the Spanish slangs coming from the other end. “Lance?” 

“Keith?” Lance's tone changed immediately although the tired accent was still thick. “Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah! Yeah everything is fine… sorry. I just uh,” Keith stumbled over his words. He felt bad for waking up Lance, but he didn't really want stay goodbye. “I wanted to ask- you know since you're up now…” 

“Is this question three am important?” 

“Yes,” Keith pouted, unconsciously crossing his arms.

“Adiós dulce felicidad de sueño,” ((Goodbye sweet bliss of sleep)) Lance sighed, “Alright mullet, shoot.” Keith cleared his throat and straightened his back. He’d been planning to do this at a more decent hour, but it’s better to just rip the band-aid off right?

“Would you do me the honored of accompanying me on a date this evening,” Keith stopped, confidence wavering, “You know, if you're free...and stuff.” And stuff, Keith? Seriously? He nearly hung up right then because of his inherent stupidity, but a snicker hissed over the line. 

“Dios mio,” Lance gasped through laughter, “Are you a vampire or something? Cause that was some Victorian-era shit right there.” Keith’s face grew hot, frustrated embarrassment pooling in his chest.

“If you’re only going to make fun of me, I’m going to hang up.” 

“Wait! No, Keith,” Lance immediately stopped laughing, though the smile still present in his voice. “It was cute, really. I didn’t mean to make fun, I swear.” 

“Okay…” Keith sighed, willing his blush to cool down. “So? What’s your answer?” 

“Oh! Yes, of course! I’d love to accompany you on a date,” Lance giggled at the use of Keith’s words. “Where are we going?” The rockstar let out a breath of relief as a smile appearing on his face. 

“It’s a secret.” 

“How am I supposed to know what to wear, if I don’t know where we’re going?” 

“Wear...clothes?” Keith offered. “Or don’t,” he added as an afterthought, a smirk growing on his face as his mind wandered to that image. 

“I swear, Keith Kogane,” Lance rambled off in unintelligible Spanish phrases; the rockstar—from the tone of voice—did not want to know the meaning of. 

“Okay, okay,” Keith grinned trying to calm the Cuban down, “Just wear something casual and-uh- socks.” 

“Socks?” He could picture the eyebrow raise he was getting over the phone. “Are we going bowling?” 

“Nope,” Keith grinned, happiness and pride filling his chest. 

“Come on, pllleeeeaassee just tell me,” the Cuban whined. 

“I just told you what to wear, that’s all you need to know.” 

“Fine,” Lance growled, “But if I end up underdressed at some fancy ass place, it’ll be your fault.” 

“Stop worrying so much, it’ll all work out the way it’s supposed to. I’ll pick you up around 9:30, okay?” Lance begrudgingly grumbled in agreement.

“Now, if you want me to look halfway decent tonight, I need to get back to my beauty sleep.” 

“Whatever you say, McClain,” Keith said while holding back a more savage retort.

“See you tonight,” Lance offered in a small voice. 

“Yeah,” Keith breathed happily, as the beep signaled the end of the call. He then stared at his phone, fingers hovering over the contacts list. Three thirty in the morning was certainly not the appropriate time to call in a favor. Beast wouldn’t give two shits to taking his head off for waking her this early. So, now it would have to be a waiting game. Keith flopped back down on his pillow, messy dark hair spread around his head. Butterflies were already making a home in his stomach. It was going to be a long couple of hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Are you a girl(boy) scout? Cause you tie my heart in a knot." ;) let me know what you think of this fic in the comments and punch that kudos button!
> 
> *Whew* Honestly still recovering from season 4. Keith needs a good smack to the back of the head and some good loving, that's all I'm gonna say.

**Author's Note:**

> If you were a laser, you'd be set to "stunning" ;) Thank you and sending all my love to you gorgeous readers! Comment and hit that kudos button! ♥


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